


Rose Cottage

by ladyspencer



Category: Pride and Prejudice (1995), Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Regency
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-01-20 12:55:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 41,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12433302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyspencer/pseuds/ladyspencer
Summary: After the sudden death of Mr. Bennet, Elizabeth and her mother and sisters find themselves moving to a cottage at Netherfield.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic unfortunately acquired a mind and life of its own, outwitting its author (myself) and causing it to tip the angst-o-meter a little bit too far from "love and lollipops" and a little too close to "bleak" at another website. So it's going here. I have only myself to blame, but one can't please all of the people all of the time. Here is what you will find:
> 
> The acrimonious discussion took place at Hunsford around Eastertime, but Darcy never sent Elizabeth a letter. The trip into Derbyshire over the summer did not take place. The Lydia/Wickham elopement did not take place. Therefore Elizabeth has no idea of what Wickham is truly like, while she still has some animosity towards Darcy. Jane and Bingley have married a few weeks before Christmas, and Mr. Bennet has died around mid-January. 
> 
> I promise the angst will not be insurmountable and there will be a good outcome. Beyond that, I'm not saying. I hope you will enjoy it, and as always, I enjoy your comments. Thanks!!

She sat in the quiet parlor lit only by two candles. Her head ached abominably, probably from the number of tears she had shed, and she leaned it against the cool surface of the dark walnut from which the coffin had been constructed. She found the coolness soothing, and in a moment or two, wiped her eyes on her sodden handkerchief and opened her prayer book to the service for the Burial of the Dead. Somewhere on the ground floor, she heard a clock chime midnight. Outside, the wind picked up and began blowing from the north. She could hear the faint howling of the wind and the dry, scuttling sounds of leaves being blown across the gravel sweep. 

Anyone looking in through a window would have perceived her as a sort of wraith. Her pale skin contrasted sharply with her dark hair and her sad-colored gown. Her eyes seemed enormous. She looked out over the room for a few minutes and then lowered her eyes and began reading again: 

_The Lord is my_ _shepherd :_ _Therefore can I lack nothing._

The familiar words brought no solace, but she continued to read, her lips moving slightly as though she were reading the psalm aloud. 

She was startled to hear a slight rustle in the hallway, and someone entered. Her mother's face was illuminated in the dim candlelight. 

"Mama! You should be abed and sleeping. We will watch over him for you." 

"Oh, Lizzy," cried her mother, choking back tears. "I need to spend some private time with him. Go to your bed. I will awaken Mary in an hour or two. I promise." 

She stood and embraced her mother, knowing that argument was useless but determined to try anyway. "But you are exhausted! And tomorrow—or today rather—is the day of the funeral." 

"I know it. But, Lizzie, I have been so stupid. So foolish. All these years I have been going on about the entail and the hedgerows and all the rest of it. I made his life a misery. And now he is gone. And I never asked his forgiveness." Fanny Bennet burst into tears.

"Oh, Mama. He has already forgiven you. Try to remember the past only as it brings you pleasure." She led her mother to the chair where she had been sitting and handed her the prayer book. "Sit here in peace, but do not weep so! Someone will come to be with you in an hour's time." She kissed her mother's cheek, squeezed her hand, turned, and left the room.

Once upstairs, Elizabeth tried to be quiet out of habit as she entered the room she had shared with her sister Jane for so many years. But Jane was not there. She was three miles away, sleeping by her husband's side at their estate at Netherfield. Their wedding, just two months before, had been an occasion of great joy for the family. Charles Bingley was clearly devoted to his bride and would do anything within his power to please her. He had arranged to purchase Netherfield despite its proximity to his mother-in-law, and as soon as the honeymoon was over, he had scouted over the property and found a spacious, attractive old cottage that could be renovated into an eventual home for Mrs. Bennet. 

Elizabeth allowed herself a ragged sigh as she removed her dress. No one had expected that Rose Cottage would be needed so soon. She got beneath the bedcovers, shivering a little at the chilled sheets and the sound of the wind outside. Nevertheless, she fell quickly into an exhausted, dreamless slumber. She did not awaken until a little after dawn when Susan came in to help her dress. "Oh, Susan. I've slept right through the time when I should have awakened Mary. Is my poor mother all right?" 

"Yes, miss. Miss Mary sat up with the—with Mr. Bennet until dawn, and she is now resting in her room. Mrs. Bennet is also asleep. Mrs. Phillips is keeping watch over him now and will stay with him until the funeral. She has had coffee, but she has not breakfasted." 

While the maid had been talking, Elizabeth had busied herself washing and dressing. Susan helped her put on the new black dress—the one especially made for the occasion—and Elizabeth was soon seated for Susan to do her hair. Within a few minutes, she was making her way downstairs. She ignored the headache that was beginning behind her eyes and shook off the feeling of unreality that came from too little sleep. Despite the cloudy day, everything seemed just a little too bright, a little unreal. 

Hill intercepted her in the front hallway, her starched white apron and cap a stark contrast to her black gown. "Miss Bennet, we expect the party from Netherfield at any moment, including Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. I am having the breakfast laid out on the sideboard in the dining room so that people will serve themselves. I would like to suggest that I sit with Mr. Bennet during breakfast so that Mrs. Phillips can have something to eat. Miss Mary and your mother will be down later." 

"That is very kind of you, Mrs. Hill." Before Elizabeth could say any more, Kitty and Lydia, the two youngest, came down the stairs at a sedate pace. Both girls had obviously been weeping, and both looked far too young to be wearing their severe black dresses. Elizabeth's heart went out to them, and she hurried over to embrace them. "You girls go and get some tea. We'll be in to eat--" Before she could finish, they heard the sound of carriage wheels. Elizabeth and her sisters were swept into the embraces of the Gardiners and the Bingleys. They had all seen one another late the previous evening, and words were unnecessary. Hill went into the drawing-room, and Mrs. Phillips emerged to be embraced in her turn. 

"Mr. Darcy!" Elizabeth managed to keep her voice quiet, but she could not suppress her shock at seeing him. He stood just by the front door, attired in black, keeping apart from the family. Any other man would have looked awkward, but Fitzwilliam Darcy was never awkward. 

"Miss Bennet." He stepped forward and bowed. His face was solemn, but was that kindness she saw flickering in his eyes? Impossible, she told herself. "Mr. Bingley and I had a prior engagement to meet for a few days at Netherfield, and his letter informing me of the recent—the recent tragic event—did not reach me. I arrived last night and was informed of your loss, and I am here to convey my condolences and to offer to be of service in whatever way I can be. His eyes seemed to search her face for the briefest moment before he turned to her sisters. "Miss Catherine. Miss Lydia. I am deeply sorry for your loss." He bowed again to the girls, and both bobbed curtsies in return, as did Elizabeth.

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy. Please join us for breakfast." The group began moving toward the dining room, and Darcy followed behind the others. Once everyone had filled a plate, they took seats around the table, and the maid poured out coffee and tea for them. 

Charles Bingley spoke first. "Lizzie," he began, for he had come to regard her as part of his own family. "A great deal of progress has been made on Rose Cottage, but winter has set in. I have some concern about finishing it before Mr. Collins wishes to take over the property here." 

His wife chimed in. "We want you and Mama and the girls to come and stay with us at Netherfield until the spring. Any items of furniture Mama wishes to bring, and perhaps Papa's books, can be stored in the attics there. There is more than enough room for all of you. It seems the best way to Charles and me." 

Uncle Gardiner raised his eyebrows. "Work on the cottage has stopped?" 

"Essentially, yes. Why do you ask, sir?" 

"In Town, building work continues virtually unabated except during intervals of snow or heavy rain. Even then, there is usually work that can be accomplished on the interior of a building. A London builder would say that time is money." 

"Very true, sir," observed Darcy. "It seems that in this case, time is of the essence." He turned to Bingley. "Here is a task with which I might offer my assistance. I have certainly overseen enough renovations to know what is involved in getting the work done. If local labor is insufficient, we might see about bringing in workers from London."

"That is very kind of you, Mr. Darcy." Elizabeth finally spoke up from her place beside her mother. "But what of your various occupations in town and on your estate in Derbyshire? You must be a very busy man." 

"I would hate to think of myself as being so busy as not to be able be of help where I can be. In any case, at this time of year, I have very little to do. My sister is in town with her companion studying with several masters, and she is under the supervision of our aunt, Lady Matlock. Pemberley is usually quiet at this time of year. And any business I need to transact can be easily taken care of by an occasional visit to Town. I would be honored to assist if you approve, Miss Bennet." 

Elizabeth inclined her head with as much grace as she could muster. She was astonished at Darcy's assertions because they seemed so unlike him. "I thank you on behalf of myself and all my family," she replied. 

"Bingley, let us arrange to go to the cottage first thing tomorrow, after Mr. Bennet's final rites have been observed." 

They were interrupted by the arrival of Mrs. Bennet, leaning on the arm of her daughter Mary. Mrs. Bennet was quiet and composed. She greeted everyone, including Darcy, and accepted a cup of coffee, but all she would do was toy with a plate of fruit. It was Jane who finally persuaded her to accept one half, then the other half, of one of her favorite scones. Mary ate gratefully but did not say much beyond greeting everyone. The table grew quiet, and the silence became awkward. 

 The clock chimed the hour of nine, and Elizabeth stood and announced, "They will be here—they will be here to take Papa to the church at ten. The funeral is to be at half-past ten. Please make yourselves comfortable in the east drawing room or feel free to linger over your coffee here." Her Aunt Gardiner signaled to her to come to the library.

Once they were in the library, Mrs. Gardiner took up a small package. "Here are proper black gloves for you, Mary, Lydia, and Kitty. Cloaks will be forthcoming, but they will take a few more days. I suggest you wear your normal warm wraps and leave them in the carriage. We will not be attending the graveside services in any case, so all you have to do is get into and out of the church." 

"Thank you, Aunt. You have been such a help to us." 

"How is your mother?" 

"She is grieving over my father. But she is also mourning her foolish behavior toward him—what she calls 'the hedgerows and the entail.' She realizes how difficult she made his life, and she is distressed that she never asked for his forgiveness. She came down a little after midnight and took my watch over the coffin. I assume Mary relieved her at some point." 

Aunt Gardiner shook her head. "We never know what we have until we lose it." She laid a hand on each of Elizabeth's shoulders and searched her face. "You, Lizzy, are going to become the head of the family. It is inevitable. You will always have your uncle and Mr. Bingley, but I strongly suspect the day-to-day management of Rose Cottage will fall on your shoulders." She gathered her niece into an embrace.

Elizabeth felt her stomach lurch as it always did when this subject was brought up. She envisioned a lifetime of growing old as she cared for an increasingly irrational mother while her other sisters had husbands and families. "I am ready, Aunt. Truly I am. I know I can always come to you with questions. And the Hills are coming with us, and Cook, and Susan. Charles and Jane, and you and Uncle, have been so generous towards us. I believe I will manage quite well." She summoned up a watery smile. "Besides, you know how I am. I always behave better when I have something to occupy me." 

The two women left the library, and Elizabeth looked into the drawing room where her father rested. Aunt Phillips' head was bent over her Prayer Book. Mr. Darcy stood with one hand resting on the coffin, eyes closed, head bent in an attitude of prayer. Elizabeth said nothing, and she and Aunt Gardiner walked quietly to the east drawing room where the rest of the family were gathered. People were beginning to put on hats, bonnets, and outer clothes, and Elizabeth distributed the gloves among her sisters. 

The master of Longbourn was to be buried according to the old country ways, and instead of a glass-walled hearse, a farm wagon drawn by a team of four sturdy draft horses came forward. Six of Longbourn's tenants, attired in their best, entered the house to bring the coffin to the wagon. The sky was leaden, and rain threatened, but an occasional shaft of sunlight broke through. Elizabeth saw the coats of the horses, brushed to a glossy sheen, picked out in the sunlight like rich, dull satin. As many flowers as could be had were mounded up around the coffin. The gentlemen assisted the ladies into two carriages and took their places behind the wagons. As was fitting, the first row was occupied by Mr. Bingley and Uncles Phillips and Gardiner. Darcy, with perfect propriety, stood behind them and next to Mr. Hill. 

The small Longbourn church was packed, mostly with men. Elizabeth and Jane supported their mother between them. The funeral service, mercifully brief and always comforting, was read by their dear vicar Dr. Price. There was no homily or eulogy. After the closing psalm, Dr. Price escorted the family out, and the ladies were helped back into the carriages for the short ride home. The men would gather in the churchyard, where the body of Thomas Bennet would be committed to the earth.. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A funeral at Longbourn

In the hour or so that the family had been attending the funeral, the house had been transformed. Women of all ranks bustled about. Because of the cold, trestle tables and benches had been set up in the front hall, the tables covered with cloths, to serve the tenants, local farmers, and townspeople. For the gentry, the rear drawing-room had been converted into a second dining room. Mrs. Hill, standing in the front hall, directed the women in setting out truly massive quantities of food and drink which had been provided by the neighbors. Servants from Longbourn, aided by servants from Netherfield, hurried from the kitchen with platters of meat and other foods. 

Elizabeth and Jane supported their mother, who was silent and dry-eyed. Elizabeth felt a numbing sense of unreality, as though she were watching the scene through a window from some distance away. The men came in, and the Bennet sisters grouped together with their mother in the front drawing-room to receive the condolences of each guest. It seemed to take hours. Despite the subdued voices of the mourners, the hum of conversation felt deafening at times.  

"I think I need to go and lie down, Lizzy," said Mrs. Bennet when the last person had been greeted. 

Hill was at her elbow in an instant. "I'll see to her, Miss Bennet. You go and get yourself something to eat." She reached into a pocket. "This express come for you during the funeral." 

Elizabeth took the letter and put it in her pocket, noting that it was from Charlotte Collins. She then turned to take up her duties as hostess, ensuring that everyone had something to eat and a place to sit down and that no one wanted for anything. She was stopped by Lady Lucas. "Have you had a letter from Charlotte, Eliza? She has sent you an express. The doctor has ordered her to bed for some weeks for fear of losing the child. She is bitterly disappointed not to be able to come to you, but it may be some time before she can travel. Mr. Collins will wait and accompany her." Lady Lucas' face was an image of compassion. She certainly did not appear to be measuring up for new carpets and draperies, as Mrs. Bennet would once have predicted. She took Elizabeth's hand in hers. "Your burdens may be heavy, Eliza, as you are the eldest daughter at home now. Please call on me if you need anything at all." Her eyes filled, and she held her handkerchief to her face. "I never wanted to see this day, indeed I did not." 

Elizabeth patted the older woman on the shoulder. "I thank you, Lady Lucas. I have Charlotte's letter in my pocket, but I have not had the opportunity to read it. I will send a note to let you know of any news. The health of the babe must be our first concern. Will you not be proud to be a grandmama?" She smiled, and the older woman's face brightened. Just then, Mrs. Long came up to take her leave, and Elizabeth turned to speak to her. 

Darcy had been watching quietly and unobtrusively from a spot near the window. She must be exhausted. She had eaten virtually nothing all day, and she had been on her feet since mid-morning. He would give up a good deal to coax the roses back into her cheeks and to erase the marks of fatigue from her lovely eyes. He strode decisively in the direction of the dining room, returning a few minutes later with a plate, silverware, and a napkin. 

"Miss Bennet," he began. "You have not eaten sufficiently today. I have brought you a repast that will be sustaining, if not precisely elegant. You owe it to your mother, your sisters, and yourself to keep your strength up. Will you not be seated?" She gave him a tired half-smile and allowed herself to be led to a chair. He handed her the napkin and plate. "A sandwich of good roast beef and cheese on new bread. Very sustaining. And an orange."

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth replied, noting that he had cut the sandwich up into quarters for her and that the orange had been sectioned to look like a flower on the plate. "An orange! They are my favorite fruit. I know not how these came to be at Longbourn. We certainly do not usually have them at this time of year." 

He reddened slightly. "I confess they came from the orangery at Pemberley. I brought them as a gift for Mrs. Bingley, and she thoughtfully suggested that they would be of greater benefit to this house. There are enough that you and your family should be able to enjoy fruits and juice for several days." 

"It will be a rare treat." Elizabeth was too exhausted to make sense of what was going on with Mr. Darcy. Despite the hard—well, actually ugly—parting between them at Hunsford Parsonage the previous April, he was on his best behavior. It was more than that, really. He seemed to be capable of genuine kindness and compassion. She could not credit it. It must be innate—or well taught—good breeding in the face of a family in mourning. Perhaps the loss of her father had caused Darcy to recollect his manners and behave in a gentleman-like fashion. As she had been musing—and consuming her sandwich—he disappeared suddenly, returning with a glass of wine. 

"I believe this will also be beneficial for you, Miss Bennet," he observed. "It will facilitate restful sleep, and I suspect you stand in need of that." 

"How would you know that, Mr. Darcy?" 

He sat in the chair next to hers. "You may not be aware of it, but the management of a household--indeed of an estate—fell on my shoulders when I was but a few months older than you are now. And, unless I miss my guess badly, you stood in relation to your father in much the same way as I stood to mine." 

"I loved him dearly." Elizabeth instantly regretted revealing so much and began consuming her orange with every expression of enjoyment. When she had consumed three delicious segments, she spoke again. "Surely, there can be no comparison between an estate the size of Pemberley and a small cottage with five ladies."  

Once again that look of compassion, or empathy, or whatever it was, flitted across his face. He did not entirely succeed in masking it. It remained in the expression of his eyes. 

"I believe you to be mistaken in that regard, Miss Bennet. The worries and cares remain the same whether the size of the household is large or small. The burdens borne by the farmer and his wife are no less than those borne by the owners of the stateliest home in England. The sources of concern may be quite different, but the cares must be the same for everyone—to preserve the home and to provide for the family." 

"Very profound, Mr. Darcy." 

Before he could reply, Bingley and Jane approached them. As Elizabeth had been eating, the guests had taken their leave. A few women remained assisting the servants to tidy up, and the house would soon be back to normal—at least in its appearance. Bingley seated his wife on the sofa opposite Darcy and Elizabeth and sat down next to her. "Jane and I have been talking," he began. "Lizzie, you have not yet seen Rose Cottage." 

"None of us has seen it, Charles. We are all sure it shall be fine, and we are excited by the idea of the renovations." Elizabeth was doing her best to be diplomatic. 

"What would you say to Darcy and I calling for you tomorrow morning? We can drive you to the cottage, and you can take a good look at it. The upstairs are off-limits at the moment, but there is plenty to be seen on the ground floor. The kitchen is in the basement." 

"Do consider it Lizzie. It is only a few steps from the cottage to the house, and you could come afterward and have some tea. Allow me to pamper you just a little." Jane smiled at her sister. 

"I have not seen the cottage as yet, Miss Bennet. But it is a good idea," added Darcy. If substantial alterations need to be done, they can be accomplished much more easily and cheaply in the early stages." 

"In that case, I accept." Elizabeth smiled over at Bingley and her sister and popped her last orange section into her mouth. 

"Good then." Bingley smiled back at her. "Would ten o'clock be too early?" 

"Not at all. I shall be ready at ten. I take it I should wear my boots." 

"Absolutely." 

Aunt and Uncle Gardiner came in just then, and the Netherfield party prepared to leave. Elizabeth embraced them both. "I will see you tomorrow at Netherfield," said Elizabeth, fighting tears. She turned to include the entire group. "Thank you all for—for everything." 

The house was dark and quiet as Elizabeth went up to bed. She had a care to put out all of the candles on the ground floor and to see that the fires were banked—jobs someone else had always attended to. She took up her own candle, went into her room, and undressed. This evening she took the time to wash her face and to put on a proper nightdress. Then she remembered Charlotte's letter, drew it from the pocket of her gown, and settled by the fire to read it. 

_Hunsford_ _Parsonage, February 10, 18___

_Dearest Eliza,_

_Words cannot convey how much I wish I could sprout wings and fly to_ _Longbourn_ _to be with you. We received the news just this morning, and you have been in my thoughts ever since. There has been a slight difficulty with the baby—nothing too serious, I assure you—and Dr. Meade wishes me to remain confined to bed for six weeks for fear of losing the little one. Mr. Collins will remain by my side until I am released by the doctor. He sends his deepest condolences as do Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh._

_Lizzie, I feel sure the same thought has occurred to everyone as that which has occurred to us. That is, the burden of managing the new household will fall onto your shoulders. I know that Mr. Bingley is renovating a comfortable home for you on the estate at_ _Netherfield_ _. We wish you to understand two things, and to understand them clearly. And I will assert that we are in complete accord on these two things._

_Firstly, you must and shall stay at_ _Longbourn_ _until the final touches have been added to your new home at_ _Netherfield_ _. Your mother is not to fear being put out of her home without another home to go to. Lady Catherine has asserted that we may stay at_ _Hunsford_ _for as long as necessary, especially in light of the concerns with the expected baby. Mr. Collins is in complete accord._

_Secondly, I must tell you that the furniture you saw last spring here at_ _Hunsford_ _belongs to Mr. Collins, and he regards all of it as being family heirlooms. While I cannot venture an opinion on its_ _value, I feel I must respect the sentiments that connect him to the furniture and to his departed mother, whom he loved very dearly. We hope therefore that you will choose and take whatever is needed for the new home, including your mother's china, plate, and silverware. We also wish for her to be surrounded by the comfort of familiarity in her new bedchamber. Mr. Collins plans to set up his own substantial library in Mr. Bennet's library space at_ _Longbourn_ _, so you will have the benefit of your father's books to keep or to sell as well as the furnishings in that room. We can work out the small details as the time draws nearer._

_Finally, dearest Eliza, please take the time to look after yourself. I cannot begin to express with my pen the depth of sorrow I feel at your loss. Your father brought a note of grace to all our lives, and I well understand the depth of your attachment to you. Please write as soon and as often as you can, and I promise to do the same._

_With all my love,_

_Charlotte_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit to Rose Cottage

Elizabeth awoke to pale sunshine the next morning. Although her sleep had been uninterrupted, as soon as she opened her eyes, she was oppressed again by her family's precarious position. In fact, she had to admit to herself that whenever she allowed her thoughts to become idle, the feeling of dread would creep in. Although she told herself it was pointless to worry, tears began to gather at the corners of her eyes. She dashed them away, got out of bed quickly, rang for Susan, and prepared for her visit to Rose Cottage by dressing in one of her older dyed muslin gowns and a pair of sturdy boots. 

"A package come this morning from London, miss. And it's a large one. Might it be your new cloaks?" 

"It might be. Perhaps I should wear mine today." 

"Oh, no, Miss. Wear your second-best pelisse, the grey one. You won't want to go to a dirty place where they are digging and building in your new cloak." 

"You are right, Susan. But I will wear the new black scarf round the collar. That should provide the right note." She peered into the mirror. While the dark circles had diminished, she still looked pale. Black was not her color. When she was ready, she went downstairs. 

Although it was nine o'clock, no one else in the family was stirring. Hill met her in the downstairs hall. "Good morning, Miss Bennet. Your breakfast is hot and on the table." The woman hesitated for a moment. "I wonder. Would you mind going over these dinner menus for me? I have planned enough meals to last us until next market day. I don't think your mother--"

"Of course, I will." Elizabeth took the paper. "Have you a pencil? Since I am alone this morning, I will read them while I eat, though I am certain they are perfect." She settled at the table, noticing with a pang that the breakfast included her favorites, and did her best to finish every morsel. Over a second cup of coffee, she reviewed Mrs. Hill's meal plans and found them perfect. She wrote "Perfect, thank you – EB" at the bottom of the list, and as she rose from the breakfast-table, she handed it to the maid with instructions to give it to Mrs. Hill.  In return, the maid handed her a stack of letters. While there were none for her, there were three addressed to her father. She separated those, handed the rest back to the maid, and said, "Please give these to the rest of the family when they come down for breakfast."

Once she was in the hallway, she frowned down at the letters for her father. All bore London addresses of merchants—bookseller, tea merchant, wine merchant. She took them into the library and laid them on his desk. She had no idea how such bills were actually paid. Surely one did not just place bank notes in an envelope and send them off. One of her uncles would know. She left the library quickly because it made her sad to be there. 

Elizabeth had just finished putting on her bonnet when she heard the carriage. To her delight, Aunt and Uncle Gardiner were admitted. Each embraced and kissed her. "Lizzy, I have come to visit with your mother," said Aunt Gardiner. "Your Uncle will conduct you to the cottage, and then you must have a nice, long visit with Jane. Please, please stay as long as you wish." 

"Thank you, Aunt. Our cloaks have arrived, but I have not put mine on. Susan was afraid it would get dirty at the cottage." 

"Susan was right. I will see that everyone tries hers on." 

Elizabeth and her uncle settled into the carriage, and once they had begun the short drive, she spoke. "Uncle, how does one pay bills?"

He patted her hand. "Remember what we have said, Lizzy. You are not to worry about the money right now. We will show you how to plan for your household expenses." 

She smiled ruefully. "No, Uncle. I am not worried about the money, for I have taken to heart what you told me. I do not know how a bill is actually paid—that is, if a merchant is not nearby, how you send him the money." 

Her uncle laughed. "I am making things too complicated. For now, give your Uncle Phillips the bills. He will pay them by means of bank drafts. Since he is a busy man, he may want to show you how to do that. It is not difficult." Mr. Gardiner looked out of the carriage. "Here we are approaching Netherfield." 

They drove past the road that approached the front of the house and veered off to the left onto another well-kept road that Elizabeth had not noticed. It wound uphill for a few yards, through a thin stand of trees, and there at its end was Rose Cottage. Elizabeth caught her breath. It certainly was picturesque. Built of the same rosy brick that had been used for Netherfield, the structure was two stories high with rooms on a third floor under a dormered roof. Two windows graced each side of the front door, and off to the left-hand side was a small wing or extension, one story high with its own peaked and dormered roof. A single tree stood to the left in the front, and the structure was set against a backdrop of trees behind it. A fence of once-white pickets surrounded what had once been the garden. It had fallen down, borne down by the weight of innumerable climbing rose bushes, now dormant. 

"I see why they call it Rose Cottage," said Elizabeth. She looked up at the roof, silhouetted against the blue sky. It had once been wood-shingled. Now it was in serious disrepair, and she could see several men on ladders stretching lengths of tarpaulin over the worst part. Bingley hurried out to greet them. 

"Welcome, Lizzy!" he said with his usual kind smile. "I hope you don't find all of this too daunting." He assisted her down from the carriage and they waited for Mr. Gardiner. 

"No, Charles! The house is charming. And it is much more spacious than I had imagined. Mama and the girls will be pleased. I believe it is larger than Hunsford Parsonage." She took his offered arm and they walked through a gap in the fence and towards the door with Mr. Gardiner.

"It is larger than it looks," replied Bingley. Because it sits on rising ground, there is a basement with its entrance around back. The kitchen is there. At one point, there was a driveway, which we will repair and restore." 

As they picked their way through the mud, Darcy climbed down a ladder placed next to the front door. Unlike the other two men, who were wearing suits, he was attired in nankeen trousers, sturdy boots, and a rough woolen jacket. A large white linen handkerchief knotted loosely around his neck took the place of a cravat, and his white linen shirt was the only thing that set him apart from the other workmen. He bowed, and his eyes searched her face briefly. "Miss Bennet. Good morning. I trust everyone is well at Longbourn? Your mother is in good health?" 

"Yes, thank you, sir. When I left, she and my sisters were all still sleeping." 

"It is the best thing for them. Sleep is a great restorative. There is a bench over beside the tree. Shall we all walk in that direction? I will report to all three of you on what I have learned so far." As they all began to pick their way across the muddy yard, he continued. "It is not so bad as it looks." 

When Elizabeth had been seated on the bench, Bingley and Mr. Gardiner took seats on a pile of lumber stacked nearby. Darcy stood leaning against the tree and extracted a pencil and notebook from his pocket. "I have done a preliminary examination of the house from attic to basement. I believe it to be in basically sound condition, though we may wish to confirm my observations with a master builder. The roof is in very poor condition. It was originally wood-shingled, but I suggest replacing it with slate. While slate is costlier at the outset, a good slate roof can last a hundred years or more. The attic contains four bedrooms for servants, each with at least one window and each with a closet. The ceilings, floors, and doors need to be replaced, and the walls must be plastered and whitewashed or painted. There is a storage area." 

Darcy looked at his audience before continuing as if to ensure they understood what he was saying. "The first floor consists of four large family bedchambers including a master's bedchamber with adjacent dressing room. There is a fifth smaller bedroom above the addition. As with the attic, the floors, ceilings, and doors need to be replaced and the walls need to be plastered and painted. The floors have deteriorated to such an extent that it is not safe to walk on them at the moment. However, I believe the underlying structure is sound."

He consulted his notes. "As for the ground floor, which we can tour if you wish, Miss Bennet, it is in better condition than the two upper floors. There are two large parlors, a room that appears to have been the dining-room, a smaller rear parlor overlooking the woods, and there is actually a library. The addition is fitted out with bookshelves and is in surprisingly good condition. It receives natural light from three sides."

Elizabeth had forgotten, at least for the moment, that she was supposed to be angry with him. "That is a very good thing, Mr. Darcy. I heard from Mrs. Collins late yesterday, and she has urged us to bring Papa's books here when we move." 

Darcy schooled his face carefully. "I recall from our conversations that you have improved your mind by extensive reading. Are any of your sisters great readers?"

"Yes. My sister Mary reads a great deal. She and I regard the library as a legacy from our father. My mother is not in agreement. I am glad there is a room ready to serve as a home for the books."

"That room will house them admirably, Miss Bennet. Now, as to the structure itself, we must have the master builder see to the chimneys. I am unable to determine their condition. The roof must be the top priority and should be started immediately. The basement kitchen must be thoroughly scrubbed and will probably require at least a new stove and other furnishings, including perhaps an experienced cat or two. There is a housekeeper's bedchamber and parlor on the other side of the basement. That concludes my observations." Darcy closed his notebook and looked at them expectantly. 

Mr. Gardiner stood up and brushed off his trousers. "Gracious, Mr. Darcy! You have been very thorough this morning, and I can see you have done this before. Thank you." 

Darcy inclined his head and said, "Thank you, Mr. Gardiner. Perhaps we can all discuss this further at Netherfield House after we have taken our tour of the ground floor of the cottage." He paused and consulted his notes. "For example, I have neglected to mention the glazing." He gestured toward the front door, and the group picked their way over the uneven ground to the path. 

Elizabeth's mind would have been in more of a turmoil had she not been grappling with the loss of her father and the enormous changes that would soon take place. However, she admitted to herself that Mr. Darcy's demeanor had certainly not been proud or haughty that morning. Though grave and serious, he was clearly interested in communicating his knowledge to the three latecomers. He also projected an aura of competence, possibly aided by his attire. As they approached the cottage, she noticed more climbing roses about the wall. Mr. Darcy opened the front door and stood aside for the group to enter. 

The first impression was favorable. The first floor was flooded with light from many windows. There was an odor of must, mildew, and disuse, and Elizabeth could see that the floors and walls needed attention. Each room was graced by a fireplace with a brick hearth and a once-attractive mantelpiece. Without furniture, the rooms seemed large, gracefully proportioned, and welcoming. The staircase ran up to the first and then the second floor from the center hall, and she could see that its railing formed an elongated spiral that was quite pleasing. 

"Miss Bennet, if you will come this way." Darcy was indicating a door through one of the smaller back parlors. "This is the library or study." 

Elizabeth looked in and saw a large room, paneled in a pleasing light oak. Tall bookcases occupied every spare inch of wall space where there was not a window or fireplace. The room had a good natural light, and the woods to the back formed a pleasing backdrop. It was necessary to walk down a step to enter the library. "What a delightful room. There is ample space here for Papa's books, and his desk and chair will fit here as well." 

She thought she saw the trace of a smile flicker in Darcy's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by his habitual grave expression. He inclined his head. "I am glad you like it, Miss Bennet. I thought you might be pleased." 

The group turned and went back to the main part of the house. The two smaller rear parlors were also enhanced by a view of the woods and were in about the same state of repair as the rest of the ground floor. "This seems to be an uncommonly large and graceful cottage, Charles," said Elizabeth. "Do you know anything about its history? I have lived here all my life and had never heard of it." 

"I have not been able to learn a great deal, Lizzy. It has seemed to me that the cottage was built of the same materials as the house. I thought perhaps it was used as a dowager cottage at one point, or something similar." 

The two workmen were waiting for the party as they left by the front door. They looked to Darcy, and it was Darcy who addressed them. "There will be an interruption of five days. Please return, ready for work, on Monday. At that time, if you know of any other men who have building skills, please encourage them to report to me." 

Bingley stepped forward and gave them their wages. "The house is just up this path," he said to Elizabeth. "We will improve the path into a walkway while the other renovations are being done." He offered her his arm, and the group started up the path. 

It is difficult to know whose thoughts were more occupied by the other during the short walk to the house. Elizabeth found herself trying to discount all that she had noticed. Surely Mr. Darcy would not have made such a complete about-face from his former arrogance. His attitudes had appeared ingrained to her, and she could not imagine his abandoning them. Granted, it was good of him to offer his assistance. But Charles Bingley was an old friend, and obviously beyond his depth when dealing with such a large renovation—not to mention the daily operations of an estate the size of Netherfield. She found herself wondering about Darcy's absence from the wedding. Perhaps he had been too embarrassed to present himself, given his previous treatment of Jane. She was thankful that he had been tactful enough to stay away. 

Darcy, on the other hand, was feeling a mixture of concern and relief. Elizabeth Bennet seemed to be facing the loss of Longbourn and the move to smaller quarters with equanimity. He hoped that she was not placing too much reliance on the numbness that would have carried her through the events surrounding the death of her father. That numbness would give way to a very real grief, and probably sooner rather than later. He knew of this from his own experience. He could easily foresee that she would become the mistress of Rose Cottage, responsible for her mother and the three sisters left at home. His admiration for her was boundless, and he knew that she would rise to the challenge. But he had vowed that, since she would not have his hand in marriage, he would do all that he could to ease her way through the difficulties that lay just ahead. 

In less than five minutes, the group emerged from the trees and approached the house. Jane was waiting to embrace her sister, and Darcy excused himself to change his clothes. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Tea with Jane and battles at home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I want to thank all of you who have been so kind and affirming in your comments as well as those who have left kudos. You cannot imagine the good that you've done.

Jane led Elizabeth to the comfortable family sitting-room she had adopted as her own. "We can wait here until the gentlemen come downstairs, Lizzy. I have ordered a luncheon for us. Would you like some tea in the meantime?"

"Oh, thank you, Jane. I can wait until we eat." 

"What did you think of the cottage. Was it very bad?"

"Not at all. The rooms are large and well proportioned, and there is plenty of light. The views are attractive, though they will be more attractive when we get a garden in. I particularly liked the library." She paused for a moment. "Oh, I am forgetting to tell you that I heard from Charlotte last night. Her letter was in some ways very encouraging." 

"How is the expected baby?"

"Well, that is the discouraging news. She has been ordered to bed for six weeks as a precaution. She says there is no real danger, but the doctor does not wish her to take any chances. The encouraging news is that she and Mr. Collins wish us to stay at Longbourn until work on the cottage has been completed. And Mr. Collins regards the furnishings at the parsonage as family heirlooms, so we will be able to bring many of our belongings with us. That includes the contents of Papa's library." 

"Wonderful. I confess I did not expect it of him!" 

"The really odd thing is that Charlotte mentions that Lady Catherine also agrees completely. I would never have thought it. In any case, I will write to Charlotte this evening or tomorrow." 

"How is Mama?"

"I have not seen her yet this morning. She and the girls were sleeping when I left. I think it is good for them. I am so glad Aunt Gardiner has gone for a visit so that we can have one, too." Elizabeth took a good look at her sister, who appeared pale but composed in her black gown and the white lace cap that signaled her status as a married woman. "Jane, you look pale. How are things with you?" 

"Oh, don't worry about me, Lizzie. Charles is wonderful, and I had a good night's sleep last night. Another restful night or two and I will be back to normal. I miss Papa terribly, and I worry about Mama. But I mostly worry about you, Lizzie. This has all come crashing down about your shoulders." 

"Nonsense. Charles and Uncle Gardiner and even Uncle Phillips have made things so much easier for me. If I can keep Mama calm—and Lydia—I will be able to manage this quite well. I certainly have a great deal of help and a great many advisors! But tell me, Jane: What of Mr. Darcy? Here he is staying with the family, yet he did not appear at your wedding. Have he and Charles made their peace?"

Jane colored. "I did not want to tell you because I did not want to cause any discomfort for you after the incident at Hunsford. Late last spring, Mr. Darcy made a clean breast of it to Charles. He confessed that he—as well as Caroline and Louisa—had known that I was in town last winter. He admitted that he had been wrong about the sincerity of my attachment to Charles, and he asked forgiveness. Of course, Charles forgave him, and when our engagement was announced, he told Charles it would be best if he absented himself from the ceremony. That is why Mr. Hurst served as Charles' groomsman. Mr. Darcy was exceedingly helpful in the negotiations for the purchase of Netherfield, and he offered to assist Charles in whatever ways he could to plan for this first spring planting and to make improvements to the property.  He has also offered to help with interviewing a proper steward. That is why he is here. Our express informing him of Papa's death was misdirected to Pemberley while he was in London, and he never received it." 

Elizabeth raised her favorite eyebrow. "You astonish me, Jane. I cannot believe the man is that selfless. Although I must admit, his behavior while here has been exemplary." 

"He is a better man than you know, Lizzy." Jane lowered her voice. "There are other things I feel you should know, but I have assured Mr. Darcy of my secrecy. Give me a little time to consider what I may properly say to you. You and I have had no secrets in the past." 

"Yes, dearest Jane, but things change. You confide in Charles now. I am consumed by curiosity, but I will be patient." 

The sisters heard the voices and footsteps of men in the hall, and as soon as the three gentlemen had joined them, the group adjourned to the dining-room, where luncheon was ready. 

"So, what did you think of Rose Cottage, Lizzy?" Charles started the conversation when they had all been served. 

"I like it very much, Charles. And I believe that my mother and sisters will like it as well. Its situation is uncommonly attractive, and Mama will enjoy working on the garden, I am sure. It is the one form of exercise she allows herself." 

"And you are not discouraged about the time needed for the renovations?" 

"Not at all. Mr. Darcy has given us a very comprehensive report, and while my ignorance on the subject is boundless, it seems that with proper workmen, the renovations can be accomplished in a reasonable period of time." She threw a sidelong glance at Darcy who appeared to be regarding her with the same look of annoyed disdain she remembered from her visits to Netherfield and Hunsford the previous year. She decided to ignore him. 

"Indeed, you are right, Lizzie," added her uncle. "You will be surprised at what well-trained workmen can accomplish. Remind me to tell your aunt we should be watching for cloth for draperies and so-on that might come into the warehouse."

"I have so many things to remember, I am going to need to hire a secretary, Uncle. Either that or employ some of those useful notebooks such as Mr. Darcy carries." She deliberately refrained from looking at him. "For example, I have neglected to tell you that we are directed by Mr. Collins to keep whatever furniture we choose from Longbourn. He especially mentions Mama's bedchamber; the china, silverware, and plate; and Papa's books. The furnishings at Hunsford Parsonage are apparently all family heirlooms of his." 

"That is good news indeed," said Charles from his end of the table. 

"I wish it were better news. Mr. and Mrs. Collins will not travel to Longbourn for at least six weeks. Mrs. Collins has been ordered to bed due to her interesting condition. She assures me that she is in good health. It is being done out of an excess of caution." 

"Better safe than sorry," asserted Mr. Gardiner. And since he was the only parent in the group, no one could dispute with him. 

Jane rose, and the group followed her back to the sitting-room where coffee and tea had been laid out. The skies had turned dark and threatening, and Elizabeth began to think she should get home. "I hate to cut our visit short, Jane. But we will have many more opportunities. And I must think of Aunt Gardiner." 

"Would you and Mama and the girls like to join us tomorrow evening for a family dinner, Lizzie?"

"That sounds lovely. Let me see how Mama is feeling, and I will send you a note first thing in the morning, Jane." 

As they stood in the front hall waiting for the carriage, Darcy approached with the same look of hauteur he had exhibited at luncheon. "Miss Bennet, if you have no further questions for me, I plan to leave Netherfield for London tomorrow morning, weather permitting. I shall return on Saturday bringing a builder whom I know to be reliable. Starting Monday, he will validate or correct my observations, and we can begin planning the work in earnest. I hope that this plan meets with your satisfaction." 

Elizabeth curtsied gravely. "Perfectly, Mr. Darcy. I thank you on my own behalf and that of all my family for your generosity in undertaking this task." 

He wanted to seize that small white hand and kiss it. Instead, Elizabeth pulled her gloves on and he bowed gravely. "Until Saturday, then, Miss Bennet." 

When Elizabeth and Uncle Gardiner arrived at Longbourn, the rain was still threatening. They found Maria Lucas preparing to leave and casting anxious glances at the skies. Of course, the Gardiners offered to escort her home in their carriage, and Aunt Gardiner left after a mysterious injunction to "talk to Lydia" whispered in Elizabeth's ear. As she removed her bonnet and pelisse, Elizabeth could hear her mother's voice raised in irritation. She headed for the parlor with a sigh. 

"I hope you had a good time, Miss Lizzy, leaving me to deal with all of this." Mrs. Bennet's voice was as peevish as ever. 

"With what, Mama?" 

"You must tell Lydia and Kitty that they are in mourning. They may not, and they shall not, go jaunting about the countryside hither and yon in search of officers! It is unseemly." 

Elizabeth sat down. "First of all, tell me what officers. I know of no officers in the vicinity since the ___shire Militia left for Brighton last summer." 

Lydia spoke up. "It simply isn't fair, Lizzy. What would you know about it? You're so high-and-mighty, you'll just walk about with your nose in the air." She threw down the embroidery she had been working on and stood with a flounce. "For all you care, we can all die old maids!"

"You mind your tongue, Lydia" cried her mother. The pitch of her voice rose higher. "How could your father die and leave me with all this on my hands? I have such palpitations in my heart, I may be joining him sooner than any of us thought possible." She fanned herself with her handkerchief. 

Elizabeth waded into the fray. She knew instinctively that if she tried to speak loudly, her voice would be as shrill as her mother's. Instead, she drew herself up and spoke quietly. "Lydia, either sit down and be quiet or go to your room. Mary, would you be kind enough to ring for some more tea? Mama, I have a great deal of news, and all of it is good. I should like to share it with you if you can remain calm."

Lydia flounced back to her place and sat down with an audible sniff. Once the tea arrived, and Mrs. Bennet had been served, she calmed down enough to turn an expectant eye on Elizabeth.

"Now then. First of all, Jane has invited us to a quiet family dinner tomorrow evening. It will be just Charles, Jane, Aunt and Uncle, and the five of us. Would you like to go, Mama?" 

"Oh, yes. That would be lovely. And that unpleasant Mr. Darcy, will he be there?" 

"No, he will have left for London. Would you be good enough to send Jane a note in the morning telling her we will be there? I wanted to ask you before accepting." 

"Of course, I will." 

"Next, I have visited Rose Cottage, and I have seen the ground floor." 

"Cottage, indeed. How I shall endure living in a tiny place fit only for tenants is beyond me." Mrs. Bennet's voice rose once again. "I suppose having a roof over one's head is better than being turned out into the hedgerows, but I do not know how I shall bear the humiliation before all my friends." 

"Mama," said Elizabeth calmly and quietly. When her mother eventually looked over at her, she went on. "Rose Cottage is very large. In fact, we have concluded that it was built as a dowager house. There are three large parlors, a dining-room, and a library on the ground floor. The first floor has four family bedchambers including a master's bedchamber with dressing-room. There is a fifth, smaller bedchamber that could become a small sitting-room, perhaps a guest bedchamber, or a sewing-room. There are four servants' bedrooms and a storage area on the third floor. The kitchen is in the basement along with a housekeeper's bedroom and parlor. My guess is that the whole is larger than the parsonage at Hunsford." 

"Really? Well, that does not sound like a cottage at all. Imagine the surprise of people coming to call for the first time at Rose Cottage and finding a substantial, respectable house." 

"I believe you will like it. It is built of the same brick as that used at Netherfield, all the rooms have excellent light, and while there is no garden, I do not doubt that you will correct that rather quickly." 

"'Come and have tea with us at Rose Cottage.' Ohh, how well that sounds!" 

Elizabeth smiled to herself. This was going more smoothly than she had anticipated. "Now, for the third piece of news, I have heard from Charlotte Collins."

"Oh, do not speak of her! She and that parson are on their way here to throw us out."

"Not at all, Mama. In the first place, Charlotte is in a delicate condition and has been ordered to bed for six weeks as a precaution." 

"Well, I am sorry for her." 

"She and Mr. Collins will not travel here until we have moved into Rose Cottage." 

Mrs. Bennet waved her handkerchief. "I suppose we can find enough quilts and shawls to spread out on the floors for mattresses and coverings, since we shall not have anything else." 

"Mama! Please allow me to finish." Elizabeth kept the edge out of her voice, but just barely. "Mr. Collins wishes to bring his furniture and household items to Longbourn. They were cherished by his late mother. We are to take whatever we want and need, including Papa's books." 

"Books, indeed! Those books will be sold, and we can use the money for more useful things." 

Elizabeth bit back her angry comment. She would deal with the book problem later. 

Mercifully, Hill entered to announce supper. The question about which soldiers were coming and when they would be arriving, loomed, but would have to wait. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An arrangement, an encounter, and a nice chat

Elizabeth, aided and abetted by her sister Mary, managed to banish argument and dissension from the supper-table for most of the meal, though neither was able afterward to say how they had done it. They simply maintained a quiet tone to the conversation and kept it confined to the weather, the new cottage, and other harmless subjects. 

"What was in the large package?" Elizabeth finally said. "Was it our new cloaks?" 

"Yes, and they're awful," replied Lydia. "How much longer will we have to appear in this dreadful black?" 

Suddenly the quiet conversation was over. 

"Have you no sense of propriety, Lydia? Have I really made such a dreadful mess of bringing you up?" Mrs. Bennet's most peevish tones crept into her voice. 

"You cannot expect her to know how to observe mourning customs when you have allowed her to run wild," said Mary. 

Elizabeth set her knife and fork down with a sigh and took a sip of her water. "Lydia," she began. "We are in mourning for our father. Papa is gone, and not only are we all sad, but we also have to conform to Society's expectations of our behavior. It will not last forever, but we must behave with propriety." 

"That's easy for you to say. You're already one-and-twenty. And Mary drags around with a long face anyway. But Kitty and I have our whole lives ahead of us! Who wants to look like an old crow?" 

Mary sniffed and began to say something, but Elizabeth held up a hand to interrupt her. "Lydia, you cannot remember having lost a loved one. Let me explain to you what you can expect. First of all, for the next six weeks or so, we will live very quietly. That means no dances, no dress-parties, and no large, formal dinner-parties." 

"Ohhh!" Lydia threw down her knife and fork.

"Please sit still, Lydia, and allow me to finish. This does not mean you cannot see your friends. You may make calls, receive visitors, and attend small dinner or supper-parties, teas, and the like. No one expects you to become a hermit. You will wear black for three months, and for three months after that, you will wear more subdued colors. After that you may resume a more normal social calendar. This is the way it is, Lydia, and there is very little point to arguing about it." 

"It simply isn't fair. Maria Lucas has told us that the __shire Militia will be returning to Meryton."

Elizabeth sighed. "When?" 

"Oh, sometime in the next few weeks. She was not sure, but she had it from her father." 

"We will cross that bridge when we come to it," returned Elizabeth with a sigh. 

Supper proceeded in silence—sulky and annoyed on the one hand, relieved on the other. When they had finished their tea in the parlor, Elizabeth stood. "There is correspondence which I must prepare to go to Uncle Phillips. Lydia, you and Kitty may take it to him in Meryton tomorrow and stop in to visit our aunt if Mary will agree to go with you." 

Mary set down her cup. "Much as I prefer to keep my mornings free for study, I am prepared to make the sacrifice in memory of our dear papa." 

Lydia stuck her tongue out. Elizabeth sighed gratefully. "Very well. I will go and prepare the note, and you may leave directly after breakfast. Do not forget that we dine at Netherfield tomorrow evening." 

Elizabeth went to her father's library and lit several candles. She stood quietly and let the peace of the room penetrate her thoughts. She felt she could somehow sense her father's presence here more than in any other part of the house. With a sigh, she prepared a brief note for her Uncle Phillips, enclosed the three bills, addressed it, and sealed it so that it could be delivered on the morrow. 

###

Elizabeth was up early the next morning, and she was pleased to see that while the skies were once again gloomy, there was no rain.  It was very cold. She dressed quickly, pulling on boots and her second-best dark gray pelisse and knotting the black scarf about her neck. A quick walk before breakfast would set her up perfectly for the day ahead. 

She left the house and took the lane towards Lucas Lodge and Meryton. Before she reached the turnoff, she heard the sound of a horse approaching—and at a good clip. She moved aside, and the rider was soon revealed as Mr. Darcy. He stopped quickly, dismounted, and greeted her with a courteous bow. "Miss Bennet! I had not expected to see anyone out and about so early." 

His expression seemed, at the outset, to be perfectly neutral, but it was soon replaced by that severe look she detested so much. "Mr. Darcy," she replied unsmilingly. "Good morning. I am often out at this hour. I am an early riser, and I find I can enjoy my walks in peace if I take them before the rest of the family is awake." An awkward pause ensued, which she filled by saying, "I had thought you would be gone to London by now, sir." 

"As it is a two-hour drive at most, I plan to leave shortly after breakfast. Sirdar, here, must have his morning exercise or he becomes quite a curmudgeon." The magnificent grey, hearing his name, interposed his nose between Elizabeth and Darcy, and Darcy rubbed it affectionately. "He is a very good fellow as long as he gets his morning gallop." Darcy's face relaxed into a half-smile which Elizabeth had never seen but which made him very handsome indeed.

She raised her hand. "And may I pet him." 

"Certainly. He would be honored." This time he actually smiled at her. 

Elizabeth removed her glove and caressed the horse's soft nose, enjoying the velvet feel and the way he pushed against her hand as though asking her to continue. "I am pleased to meet you, sir. Next time I am out early, I will bring you something good to eat. A nice carrot, perhaps, or an apple." 

Darcy stood silently, admiring the fearless way in which she approached the large, spirited animal. Many women were afraid of him, and indeed he seemed to tower over Miss Bennet. "Miss Bennet, I am glad we met this morning," he began. 

Elizabeth regarded him expectantly as he paused before continuing. 

"I wanted to let you know that I also plan to bring the head gardener from my house in town. It occurred to me that those climbing roses add a great deal to the charms of Rose Cottage, and I plan to ask my gardener how they can best be brought under control. I know very little of roses, but it does seem that a fence should be installed. Hobbs is an expert both in the cultivation of gardens and in the design of suitable landscapes." 

"Thank you, sir. My mother, especially, will be indebted to you." 

"And do you think she would consent to meet with him while he is here?" 

"I feel certain she would." 

"I will not detain you further in this cold. I will wait on your mother when I return." The sullen, disapproving look had returned to his countenance.

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy. Have a safe journey." Elizabeth turned, and without a backward glance, heard him ride away. She continued her walk, but her spirit was somewhat troubled. What had she ever done to merit such disapproval? Was he still so angry with her over her refusal at Hunsford that he could not endure her presence? And yet, he sometimes gave hints of being an entirely different man. His undertaking of the renovations could only be regarded as a kindness to her family. And there were those occasional hints of softness about his face—even a smile as he caressed his horse.

Elizabeth shook off these exasperating thoughts and continued up the lane. Her breath puffed out before her like smoke in the chilly air. When she reached the turnoff to Oakham Mount, she sat for a moment on a stump, considering. What had Jane meant yesterday, saying that he was a better man than she knew? And what secrets of his was Jane keeping? Realizing that she would be overdue for breakfast, she stood, turned, and strode briskly toward home and all that awaited her there. Her moments of peace were over for this day. 

###

Elizabeth's expectations of chaos went unmet that morning. Mary, Kitty, and Lydia stood in the front hall putting on cloaks and bonnets and pulling on their gloves. Kitty and Lydia wore smiles of anticipation. "Mama says we may shop for trimmings for some of our bonnets," said Lydia. 

"Within limits," asserted Mary. "They must be black, and they must be within the bounds of good taste." Lydia flounced. 

"Be guided by Mary," said Elizabeth. "She knows what is proper. You don't wish to have people gossiping about you behind your backs, do you?" 

"Well, of course not." 

"Then let it be a challenge to you." Elizabeth turned to Mary. "Where is Mama?" 

"She is still at breakfast. She came down a little late." 

"Thank you for taking the girls. Let us sit down and chat when you return." 

With that, the three younger sisters were out of the house. Elizabeth went into the dining room, kissed her mother, and heaped a plate with food. 

"I have no idea where you put all the food you eat, Lizzy. By rights you should be as fat as a pig." 

"I burn it off, Mama. How are you feeling this morning? Did you have a good rest?" 

"I must confess that I did. I was exhausted when I went to bed. When I have finished my breakfast, I will send that note over to Jane." 

"Good. I saw Mr. Darcy this morning, and--"

"He is such a disagreeable man," her mother interrupted. "I can't help wondering what he is about, assisting with the cottage as he is." 

"I believe he is doing it because Charles is his friend, Mama. But he mentioned something to me this morning that I believe may interest you. The cottage gets its name from the roses which are everywhere around it. They are dreadfully overgrown, and they have quite borne down what was once a white picket fence. Mr. Darcy--"

"Well, Lizzy, they must be pruned severely, and there is little time to lose. The job must be done properly, and it must be directed by someone who knows how to go about it." 

"Mr. Darcy is bringing the head-gardener from his house in London when he returns on Saturday. Apparently, the man knows a great deal about roses. Mr. Darcy asked if you would like to meet with him while he is here. I am sure he might have practical suggestions about the rest of the garden." She looked at her mother, considering, and decided flattery was the best tactic. "Of course, we all anticipate that you will wish to direct the landscaping efforts." 

"Oh, yes, indeed," her mother cried, fanning herself with her handkerchief. "I shall create a charming cottage garden. Simply charming. Of course, it will be very different from what we have here.  This is a gentleman's estate. But the cottage will have its own rustic charm. Did you not say that the brick was the same as that used for Netherfield itself?" 

"Yes, I believe so. The wood-shingled roof is to be replaced by slate." 

"Thatch would be more charming, but my dear, what it takes to maintain it! We shall do very well with slate. And that rose-colored brick will be an enchanting backdrop for the climbing roses. But Elizabeth, we must prune the rose bushes before the middle of February, or all is lost for another year. You must and shall help me see to it." 

"I promise, Mama." Elizabeth could scarcely remember a more pleasant and practical conversation with her mother, and she was inclined to allow it to continue. She poured herself a second cup of coffee and sat down. "Will you take cuttings from Longbourn, Mama?" 

"Oh, of course I will, Lizzy. I did not labor for all those years on these gardens for nothing. And seeds! We will want to order seeds. Oh, when will I be able to see this for myself?" 

"I am afraid it will be too dark this evening. I think we are all a little concerned that you will be in despair over the present condition of the cottage. I can assure you that it will all be set to rights, but can you enjoy looking at the grounds without becoming too distressed over the condition of the house?" 

Mrs. Bennet sighed. "If I must, I must. I would like to see the grounds before I meet with this London gardener." 

"Let us ask Charles if he will take us there tomorrow morning if the weather is good." 

"I am forgetting! I must go and write to Jane immediately! I shall be at my writing-desk upstairs" Mrs. Bennet fluttered off to write her note. Elizabeth sighed and drank her coffee. She knew not how long this interval of good feeling with her mother would last, but she was inclined to take advantage of it while it lasted. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy travels to London

While Elizabeth's morning was spent writing to Charlotte Collins, using her persuasive powers on her mother, and preparing for the evening's dinner party, Darcy spent a very taxing interval of forced inactivity riding to London in his carriage. He would have preferred an invigorating, long ride on Sirdar, but he knew he would be bringing people back with him. He stared out at the winter landscape, allowed his mind to wander, and almost immediately found his thoughts turning toward Elizabeth. She was unyielding in her dislike of him. While she had behaved with utmost courtesy and propriety, especially during a time of terrible grief and upheaval, she had not shown even a glimmer of warmth toward him. Indeed, she had shown more kindness to his horse. 

He sat back, thinking about his offer to Bingley to oversee the renovations to Rose Cottage. Although it was certainly true that this season was often one of forced idleness for him, and it was equally true that Bingley clearly needed his help, he began to question his own motives. What had seemed at the time to be pure altruism on his part—a kindness both to the Bennets and to his own good friend—began to appear to him as a move to gain the favor of Elizabeth Bennet. The Bennets were in serious trouble, that much was true. With the loss of the head of their family they were now nearly penniless. They were also entirely at the mercy of Collins—that ass—as well as his aunt. He was extremely dubious of the kindness extended to the Bennets, and he was downright suspicious of the support shown by Lady Catherine. He could only attribute their unexpected generosity of spirit to the actions of Mrs. Collins, who had seemed to him to be a woman perfectly capable of managing her husband. 

He reasoned further that the Bennets were protected to a large extent by the kindness of Bingley—God bless him—who had stepped up to the mark and taken on the not inconsiderable burdens of caring for his wife's family. As one of his closest friends, Charles Bingley was deserving of every assistance he could provide. Having purchased Netherfield outright, he needed to put it on a profitable footing as quickly as possible. Darcy sighed and pulled his notebook from the pocket of his greatcoat. He made a note to write to his own steward and inform him that he would be at Netherfield for most of the spring and possibly into the summer. He leaned back and closed his eyes again, determined to nap. As sleep overcame him, he began to dream, as he usually did, about Elizabeth. 

_H_ _e_ _guided_ _Sirdar through a large crowd,_ _un_ _able to make any progress. Elizabeth suddenly stood before him, and he was barely able to avoid trampling her. He saw that her face was pale and careworn_ _, and she was barefoot_ _. The black gown she wore_ _was_ _coarse_ _, little better than a shift_ _,_ _and her hair tumbled about her shoulders. She stood, jostled and importuned by rough_ _, shouting strangers, watching him cautiously._ _He saw her reach out, as if to gra_ _sp_ _the horse's bridle—only to snatch her hands back to her sides._ _Of_ _a sudden, he reached down and lifted her to the saddle in front of him. H_ _er long hair blew against his face, and he caught the scent of roses._ _H_ _e heard her voice as from a great distance. "Where are you taking me." And as the crowd_ _b_ _acked away from_ _them, he_ _kissed her full on the lips and said,_ _"Anywhere but here."_

Darcy slept uneasily until he heard the change in the sound of the carriage wheels that indicated they were on the outskirts of London. He stopped the coachman and directed him to go first to an address in the fashionable shopping district near his home. He completed his purchases quickly, called for a pen, and wrote something on the back of one of his cards in his careful handwriting. Turning to the proprietor, who was waiting on him, he said, "Please arrange for this to be delivered by express. I would like it in the recipient's hands before ten o'clock tomorrow morning. And please enclose this card." He gave the man the direction and the card. The proprietor shook his head after Darcy left, remarking to his clerk that shipping the parcel would cost more than the contents. But he was accustomed to the eccentricities of the wealthy, and the parcel was dispatched immediately. 

Upon his arrival at home, Darcy paused only long enough to wash the travel dust from his hands and face. It was midafternoon. He ordered luncheon brought to his study, settled down, and began writing letters. When the letters were finished, he called a footman to dispatch them and sent for Hobbs, his head-gardener. 

Hobbs was clearly unaccustomed to being called into Darcy's study, but he had been with the family for long enough to take anything in stride. Darcy bade him sit down in front of the desk and began to unfold a set of carefully drawn plans and sketches. He briefed the gardener succinctly on what was planned and what might be needed. 

"Roses can be difficult, sir," the gardener began. "It is of great importance to see that they are pruned before the last frost. It is also important not to cut them back too severely. Our old English roses bloom on last year's wood, but we won't know what we have until they begin to put out their leaves." He picked up Darcy's sketch of the front of the cottage and studied it, then extracted a pencil from his pocket and asked for paper. Darcy sat, spellbound, as his gardener sketched the cottage. A simple white fence surrounded it, with a wooden arch over the gate. Roses climbed up the fence and the arch. A path of flagstones, lined with low flower borders, ran to the front door and from there branched off toward the tree-shaded bench. On the side of the garden that was not shaded by the tree, flower borders were intersected by a rambling flagstone path. 

Hobbs finally sat back and turned the sketch so that Darcy could see it. "You see, sir, a cottage-garden should be a great deal less formal than the gardens here, or even at Pemberley. If the timing is right, we can send cuttings from Pemberley, or the ladies may have favorite plants in the gardens where they live now." He sat back and frowned slightly. "The problem is, that the roses must be pruned now, and the fence and other details cannot be added until the building is finished. When may I see it, sir?" 

Darcy laughed. "I appreciate your enthusiasm, Hobbs. We leave after breakfast on Saturday morning. Pack what tools you need, and plan to stay as long as you feel you need to." 

"Sir, another man would be helpful." 

"Choose one and bring him. Is there anything else you require?" 

"No, sir, but I have been thinking. I believe it may be possible to turn part of the plot at the back of the house into a thrifty kitchen-garden. I would like to take a look at that while I'm about it." 

"And so you shall. That will be all for now, Hobbs. I'll rely on you to gather whom and what you require." 

Hobbs left, and Darcy rolled the gardener's sketch into the roll with the other papers. A footman appeared bringing two notes. Josiah Moore, Builder, would wait upon Mr. Darcy at ten o'clock the next morning and appreciated the opportunity to be of service.  His man of business would wait upon him on the morrow at two o'clock, as requested. The footman stayed in the room long enough to light the candles before leaving. 

Darcy laid the note aside and turned to the pile of correspondence that was always waiting for him in town. He sorted through invitations that could be discarded, invitations that would require an answer, and several bills. Anything requiring a response or a bank draft was quickly dispatched, as Darcy vowed this would be the year he hired a secretary. He wrote a brief, affectionate note to Georgiana, whom he would not see during this visit, promising that they would get together the next time he was in Town. When the last shred of paper had been dealt with, he stood and stretched, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension that often built there during the day. A glance at the clock showed that dinner would be announced in less than a half-hour. He poured himself a small brandy and stood staring into the fire.

After dinner, Darcy took his port into the library. He began looking for a book on landscape architecture which might deal with smaller, humbler buildings, but he found nothing at hand. He had not expected to, and he made a mental note to visit his bookseller the following afternoon if time permitted. Then he pulled out a well-thumbed, favorite volume of Milton and sat at his ease, reading and sipping his port until he grew sleepy enough to think that sleep might be possible. Once upstairs, he dressed in his nightclothes, got into bed, blew out the candle, and composed himself for sleep. 

_She came and stood beside the bed, candle in hand, dressed in a_ _linen nightgown with a high neck and full sleeves. Gone was the pinched, exhausted look he had seen on her face this morning. Her skin was soft and translucent, her cheeks were rosy, and her eyes sparkled. She wore an enigmatic half-smile, and her hair curled around her shoulders. As he watched, she set the candle on the nightstand, pulled back the covers, and_ _laid_ _herself_ _down_ _beside him. "I see you have left room for me," she said, turning to burrow into his side._ _"How did you come to be here,"_ _he_ _heard_ _himself_ _ask. "You kissed me this morning. I wanted more kisses."_

_He pulled her into his arms for an ardent kiss, feeling her soft lips yield to him, tasting her as her fingers entwined in his_ _hair_ _, delighting as her tongue emerged shyly to_ _play with_ _his_ _._ _His kisses strayed to her cheeks, her eyes, her ears, and the soft, sensitive skin between her ear and her neck. She allowed his hands to caress and his lips to_ _explore_ _, moving in his arms with every appearance of delight and desire. Her skin was as soft and delicate as the finest silk._ _When_ _he reached the high neckline of the gown, he stopped and whispered against her ear, "My darling, could we not dispense with this?" Her only answer was a soft "mmm" as she raised her arms over her head._

_He wanted to move slowly, to caress and kiss her as he raised the gown, but it was off in a moment, revealing fair rounded breasts, ivory skin, and an enticing nest of tangled curls_ _between her legs_ _._ _He could not resist her._ _H_ _e_ _kissed_ _, then suckled each breast_ _, hearing her sigh with pleasure_ _._ _In turn, her kisses grew_ _more demanding as_ _he_ _allowed_ _his hands to skim lightly over her_ _flesh, feeling half-afraid that their roughness_ _might damage the tender skin_ _._ _He_ _heard her soft moan a_ _s her arms went_ _around_ _him, and_ _he_ _raised_ _his head to look into her dark eyes. "And will you marry me, my own Lizz_ _y_ _?" Her hands tangled in his hair again. "Only if you ask, Fitzwilliam. Only if you ask."_

He awoke as the sunlight invaded the curtains of his room, achingly aware that his arms were empty, still conscious of the dream that had visited him in the night. As was his custom, he rose quickly and was washed and dressed in a few minutes. A glance at the clock told him that there would be time for a ride and breakfast before his engagement with the builder, and within a few minutes after that, he was mounted on one of the horses kept for him in Town and headed for Hyde Park. At this very early hour, almost no fashionable people were out, and the park was taken over by grooms employed by the wealthy to exercise their fine horses. A good gallop was entirely permissible at that early hour, and Darcy took full advantage. As his muscles began to warm and stretch with the exercise, thoughts of the dream returned to his mind. He felt a great deal of despair, for he honestly believed she would never have him. His arms would remain as empty in the future as they had felt when he awakened this morning. 

He consciously willed himself to relax into the feeling of his own muscles and the powerful animal beneath him, the biting cold, the frost of his breath on the still air, and the feel of the sun and the cold on his skin and his hair. At the end of almost an hour, he patted the horse's neck, slowed their pace until the animal had cooled down properly, and turned toward home, once more riding at a decorous city trot. After an injunction to the groom to rub the horse down well, he went into the house, where his bath and breakfast awaited. 

Darcy felt somewhat lighter in spirit than he had at the start of his ride. He had made up his mind, at some point, that while Elizabeth might never be his, he was already hers, and he would be so forever. He would do whatever he could, quietly and unobtrusively, to smooth the difficult path she would be following into the future. While there was a good deal of sorrow in this conclusion, there was also a good deal of comfort. His mind was made up. 

Promptly at ten, the footman announced Mr. Josiah Moore, and Darcy welcomed him and asked him to sit down. Moore, well into middle age, was a grizzled, balding man whose well-cut, sober clothes fitted smoothly over the powerful frame of a man who had earned his living with his muscles. Darcy had employed him on a number of projects, both in town and at Pemberley. He liked and trusted Moore. 

After the initial pleasantries had been concluded, Darcy got straight to the point. "Would your schedule permit of spending several days in the country looking at a project for me? It is located in Hertfordshire, about thirty miles from London." He unfolded the set of drawings and sketches and handed them to Moore, together with his notes and observations on the condition of the cottage. 

"It appears to be a fairly large cottage, sir. It is the size of a respectable house." 

"Yes. We believe it was constructed as a dowager house of some sort. It is built from the same brick as the manor, although what remains of the roof is wood-shingled."

Moore stroked his chin with a meditative air. "I will confess, sir, that this is just the sort of project I enjoy. I have never been able to resist taking something old and restoring it to a state where it is useful. And this cottage, as you call it, could be made both useful and pleasing." He paused and looked at the sketch Hobbs had made. "As it happens, we are still in the Christmas doldrums. Work has not yet picked up, though it eventually will. I am entirely at liberty to take this on for you, sir, and I would be delighted to do so. When were you thinking of starting?"

"If you are able to do so, I would like for you to accompany me there tomorrow morning and plan to stay a week. Let me know what you will need to bring, and if it can be accommodated in the large traveling-coach or whether we need to bring a wagon." 

"I will be ready, Mr. Darcy, and the tools I will bring will easily fit in a crate on the roof of the coach. They will primarily be surveying and marking tools. With your permission, I would like to bring one of my sons along, perhaps my oldest, Harry. He can assist me, and if something unforeseen occurs, he is entirely capable of handling a project of this nature." 

"By all means." Darcy stood, and the two men shook hands. "We will leave tomorrow morning at eight o' clock." 

Once Mr. Moore had left, Darcy ordered a light luncheon to be served in his study, and before he ate, he dispatched an express to Bingley informing him of who would be arriving in the morning and requesting that rooms be prepared for them. He then finished his luncheon and re-read his notes, making a few additions here and there. 

Mr. Lawson, whose firm handled many of Darcy's business affairs in London, was also punctual, arriving as the clock struck two. Darcy came right to the point. "I need to see to the hiring of a good steward, Mr. Lawson. The requirement is at Netherfield, the estate in Hertfordshire recently purchased by my friend, Mr. Charles Bingley. Here are the notes from my observations and as many facts as I could gather." He handed over a large sheaf of papers. "You will see that the estate is not performing up to what might be expected of it. The land is good, and many of the tenants are of long standing. A great many of the cottages and outbuildings are run down." He sat back in his chair while Mr. Lawson glanced over the papers. "Mr. Bingley is young and utterly without experience in or exposure to managing an estate of any size. He would be an easy target for an unscrupulous or incompetent man. This is my chief reason for entrusting this task to you personally." 

"I will undertake the business myself, sir. Am I to understand that time is of the essence? Mr. Bingley will doubtless wish to have someone reliable in his employ before spring planting begins." 

"That is correct." 

"My suggestion would therefore be that I seek out three men with the necessary qualifications. Of course, their references and backgrounds will be thoroughly vetted."

"Can you have a preliminary report to me in two weeks?" 

"I may be able to do better than that, sir. Are you familiar with the recent tragedy at Elmwood?" 

"Everyone is familiar with it, Mr. Lawson." 

The young Earl of ___ had inherited from his father one of the oldest, most beautiful, and most prosperous estates in England. His mother had long been dead, and without a father's guidance, he had rapidly developed the most profligate habits imaginable. Within five years, before he had turned thirty, he had been through his entire fortune. The night he lost Elmwood on the turn of a card, the Earl signed over the deed, left the gambling establishment, and quietly put a gun to his head.

"The story has a more interesting, less tragic beginning," said Lawson.

"Go on."

"James Emerson was the steward of Elmwood, hand-picked by the old Earl. Emerson is the youngest son of Sir Martin Emerson, Baronet. His late father educated him thoroughly in the management of the family estate, as he did with all four of his sons. Emerson also had the advantage of a university education, but he realized at an early age that he was more interested in the land. He was engaged by the old Earl at a fairly young age and managed Elmwood for years. Under his management, it was brought to the level of prosperity it had achieved when the old Earl died. He was able to do nothing in terms of guiding the new Earl after the young man came of age, and all of his advice and efforts came to naught." 

"And you are saying he might be available?" 

"He is available, sir." 

"See what you can do about arranging an interview. If he wishes to come to Hertfordshire, so much the better. Otherwise, we will arrange to interview him here. Contact me by express. I am staying at Netherfield, and I will be leaving here in the morning to return there. We should be prepared to move quickly, should Emerson turn out to be the right man." 

"Yes, sir. I will contact you as soon as possible." 

Mr. Lawson departed, and Darcy sat thinking. An older, very experienced man with a bent for guiding the young would be an ideal steward for Bingley. It was his hope that Emerson could be secured for the position. 

The rest of Darcy's evening passed quietly. If he anticipated being visited by Elizabeth in his dreams, he was to be disappointed. His sleep was undisturbed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the slowdown. I will always be three chapters ahead of where I'm posting.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth and Mary form a practical alliance. Elizabeth hears some plain speaking from Jane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters may be slightly delayed over the next few says, as I am re-doing my kitchen. I'm determined always to be several chapters ahead of where I am posting so that "Rose Cottage" does not meet the fate of so many WIP's. So far, I'm managing to do that.

While Darcy was attending to his business in London, Elizabeth found she had her hands full at Longbourn. Her mother remained peaceably inclined for much of the rest of Thursday after their breakfast conversation about the cottage. Not so her sisters. They returned home a little after midday.  Mary entered first, her eyes throwing daggers at Elizabeth. She was closely followed by Kitty and Lydia, bickering and arguing over which hat belonged to whom. 

"It is like trying to serve as shepherdess to a flock of—of cats!" Mary exclaimed. "They cannot summon up a reasonable, rational thought between them. I am going to my room, where I hope to remain undisturbed until it is time to dress for dinner." 

"I do thank you, Mary," replied her sister. "May I come up and disturb your solitude in a little while? I would like for us to talk, but I feel I must get these two settled first." 

"That would be fine, just so long as you come alone." 

Elizabeth's next task was to settle Kitty and Lydia. She suggested that they return to their room for the hats they had decided to trim. An inspection of their purchases revealed black bombazine, crepe, buckram, several spools of black thread, and innumerable yards of black ribbon in several widths. She silently blessed Mary, for it was obvious those two would never have made the appropriate selections otherwise. Mrs. Bennet came in with the sewing basket, and when the two girls returned with several bonnets, she settled with them at the round table. They quickly became involved in conversations about fabric and trim, but though their voices were loud, Elizabeth saw that they were content. 

Elizabeth quickly and quietly went upstairs to Mary's room and knocked softly. She found her sister surrounded by books, taking handwritten notes. "I will not disturb your peace for too long," said Elizabeth, seating herself in the low chair by the fire. "I wanted first of all to thank you for escorting Kitty and Lydia to town this morning. It enabled me to get off a long letter to Charlotte about the plans and to sit with Mrs. Hill and address several questions regarding the meals and other household affairs. I realize that it would be a dreadful injustice to request you to do the same thing each day, but I think that in the interest of keeping the household running, it would be well if you and I came up with a division of labor." 

"You are right. I do not think Mama can be relied upon to handle much of anything," replied Mary. 

"I am glad you agree. First of all, we both have certain times a day for specific pursuits. You go to your music each afternoon before dinner for a couple of hours. I go out every day before breakfast, weather permitting, just to exercise. I propose that those times be reserved to us each day, and that the other be available to resolve any problems that might develop. Then, I propose that we alternate days Monday through Saturday so that each of us has half the mornings after breakfast to spend in peaceful pursuits." 

"I think that should also include trying to soothe Mama," added Mary. "It seems unfair that at their age they need to be minded as children would, but it is something we have to bear. There is one more matter which concerns me greatly, Elizabeth." 

"And what is that?" 

"Papa's books. They are his legacy to us—to you and to me particularly. I do not wish to see them sold, and when Mama speaks of it, I feel alarmed." 

"It is alarming to me as well, Mary. I have thought of beginning to pack the books in crates--"

"But that would just make them easier to get rid of." 

"You have not seen Rose Cottage yet, and in truth there is not much to see as of yet. But the library there is larger than Papa's library here. And it is lined with oak shelves built into the wall and harmonizing with the beautiful paneling. We may be able to convince her that the books will decorate it." 

"It is a good idea. I feel sure we can come up with something." 

Elizabeth stood. "I am glad we had a chance to talk, Mary. I will go out to walk tomorrow before breakfast, and when I return, I will take charge of the girls so that you may attend to your studies. Then again I will oversee them while you have your afternoon practice." 

"Thank you," replied Mary. "And I will be prepared to do the same for you the following day. Meanwhile, we have our visit to Netherfield this evening. I confess I am looking forward to it." 

"As am I." Elizabeth left and shut the door quietly. 

The family prepared for the evening visit without further incident and were ready when the Bingley carriage called for them. Lydia and Kitty each sported a newly-trimmed bonnet, and Elizabeth had to admit that they had done excellent work. Charles Bingley and Mr. Gardiner were waiting on the steps to welcome them, and they were all soon inside and seated together in the snug parlor that Jane preferred to the large, formal drawing-room. 

"Lizzy," said Jane. "I had some of the servants take a look in the attics, and they have unearthed a treasure for Rose Cottage. I should like to show it to you." 

"A treasure," exclaimed Mrs. Bennet. "Ohh, how well that sounds!"

"Would you like to see it, too, Mama?" 

"Oh, no dear. I will just sit here and have a talk with your Aunt Gardiner. You girls run along." 

Jane led the way to a little-used room at the back of the main floor. The door opened to reveal what looked like several rolled-up carpets, each with a tag. 

"The tags are all marked 'Rose Cottage,' said Jane. But that is not all. Uncle Gardiner took a look, and in his opinion, these are very fine Persian carpets. There are enough here for each of the four main rooms at Rose Cottage." 

"Oh, my. We shall be elegant indeed." 

"He will consult with an expert when he returns to London to find out how they may be properly cleaned and prepared." 

"They really are beautiful, Jane. Thank you." 

"Now, let us go across the hall for just a moment to my sewing-room. I need to speak to you privately." 

They settled comfortably in the small room Jane had set aside for herself. She spoke without preamble. "I feel I need to share with you at least some of what Mr. Darcy has told us. Charles can confirm a great deal of it. There are a few details that must be omitted from my account because I cannot invade the privacy of others. But you need to know these things." 

"I am all attention." 

"Mr. Wickham is, as you know, the son of the elder Mr. Darcy's steward. Both those gentlemen are now deceased. You also know, from Mr. Wickham himself, that old Mr. Darcy was fond of him and intended for him to have a valuable living." 

"I know all of those things. I also know how Mr. Darcy cheated him of it." 

Jane's soft eyes grew wide. "That is not true, Lizzy. Mr. Wickham led a profligate—a dissolute—life following his years at Cambridge. He was constantly in trouble at the university for—for misbehaving with a whole series of young women. He narrowly escaped expulsion. Charles confirms that. He remembers Wickham's activities clearly, because he and Mr. Darcy became friends while they were at Cambridge. When the elder Mr. Darcy died, Wickham was bequeathed the sum of a thousand pounds, which he spent almost immediately. Or I should say, he wasted it on luxurious living, gambling, and Heaven knows what sorts of vice in London." 

"Go on." Elizabeth's mind was in turmoil. 

"When the living fell vacant, Mr. Wickham told Mr. Darcy that he had no inclination at all to take Holy Orders. He preferred to study the law. You can well imagine that Mr. Darcy was relieved by that. Instead of the living, Mr. Darcy settled three thousand pounds on him as payment in full." 

"So, Wickham himself gave up the living." 

"Yes, but the story does not end there. A few years later, when he had failed in his studies of the law, and when he had spent the three thousand pounds, he returned to Mr. Darcy and asked again for the living. Mr. Darcy, quite rightly, refused him."  Jane sat back and folded her hands in her lap. 

"And why is all of this suddenly so important?"

Jane looked a little surprised. "Well, for several reasons. First and foremost, I thought you would wish to know that Wickham lied to us, terribly, about Mr. Darcy's character. It makes one wonder what else he is capable of lying about. And secondly, the ___shire Militia are returning to Meryton. We must be on our guard." 

"But I thought Wickham would long since have been married to Miss King." 

"Miss King, and her ten thousand pounds, are safe in Liverpool. Her uncle knew more about Wickham than we did. Either that or he is simply a better judge of character, Lizzy." 

"When is the regiment expected?" 

"Sir William Lucas says they will be here in about six weeks. Lizzy, I am convinced that George Wickham is a dissolute and predatory man. We must be on our guard." 

"I must say, Jane, you are not usually this harsh. You cannot find a single redeeming thing to say about George Wickham. It is so unlike you." 

Jane leaned over and took her sister's hand. "Believe me, Lizzy. It is not easy for me. You know that I like to try to find the good in everyone, and I would always hope that people could redeem themselves. But I trust my husband, and I have his confirmation of Mr. Wickham's activities at Cambridge. And my husband trusts Mr. Darcy. If nothing else, we must take steps to safeguard Kitty and Lydia. I truly believe he has no moral scruples at all." 

"Is there something you are not telling me, Jane?" 

"Yes, Lizzy. But I cannot tell you. It would be an egregious invasion of Mr. Darcy's privacy and that of his family. Perhaps he will communicate it to you eventually. In the meantime, you have my permission to discuss with him what I have told you. He authorized me to communicate it to you because he knows that the burden of looking after Kitty and Lydia will fall largely upon your shoulders." 

"And why does he not tell me himself?" 

"Believe me, Lizzy, he gave it most careful consideration. In fact, after your refusal at Hunsford, he spent all night writing you a letter to communicate all of this to you. He then waited in the park for two hours so that he could place the letter into your hands. He never encountered you, and he began to consider that the tone of the letter might have been self-serving in any case, so he tore it up." 

Elizabeth fell silent for a long moment before finally saying, "How different it all might have been if he had found me." 

"We had best return to the others. It will soon be time for dinner." 

Elizabeth's mind continued to be in turmoil all through the rest of the evening. She reassured her mother that the carpets were beautiful and far grander than what they had at Longbourn, thankful that her mother's attitude toward the renovations remained positive. 

After dinner, she found time to share a few quiet moments with her aunt and uncle, who would be leaving for London on the morrow. "You did discuss Mr. Wickham with Jane, Lizzy?" Her aunt seemed anxious. 

"Yes, Aunt. I understand completely, though I will confess I was surprised. Still, I will be on my guard, and I have Jane and Charles to help me. Mary may turn out to be a help as well." 

"Do whatever you have to do. The fact that they are in mourning may help, dear, but do not hesitate to send them to us in London if you feel you need to." 

Elizabeth kissed her aunt. "You and Uncle are the best aunt and uncle anyone could have. I could not get through this without your kindness." 

Mr. Gardiner took her two hands in his own. "Lizzy, I do not wish you to worry. Your Uncle Phillips and I have everything in hand. You have only to send him any bills that arrive."

"Thank you, Uncle. I will not worry."

"As your father's executor, I am going to take your mother's dowry in hand and see that it is properly invested. Jane has returned her portion at her husband's suggestion. I expect to achieve a much better rate of return, and the proceeds will be re-invested. 

"Thank you, Uncle." Taking them both by the hand, she went on. "I shall miss you both." 

"We will be back soon, dearest Lizzie." 

The party broke up soon afterward, and by the time the Bennets returned to Longbourn, everyone was ready to retire. Elizabeth was very happy to reach the sanctuary of her room, and after she had prepared for bed, she sat in her chair by the fire, gazing into the flames as she tried to tame her wild thoughts. 

_What must he think of me? In refusing him, I managed to insult him in every way possible. But how could I have known?_

_Oh, I should have_ _been more aware of what Wickham was up to_ _. What kind of gentleman approaches a young lady and lays out his entire life story upon their first meeting?_ _I_ _t was so_ _dramatic!_ _He was doing everything in his power to charm me away from Mr. Darcy. My father was right. With such stories as those, who would read novels? How could I have been such a fool?_

_I must say, though, Mr. Darcy did not make it easy for me. His proposal was so insulting. I might as well admit to myself, at least, that I thought he was going to offer me a position as his—as his mistress! I know now that he would never, ever do such a thing to any woman._

_Still, it is too late ever to go back. He looks at me with such scorn, such disdain! His smiles are like sunshine, but I had better get used to the fact that they will never, ever be directed at me. I have ruined my chances forever._

She got into bed and put out her candle, but sleep did not come quickly, and when it did, her dreams were troubled. She could see Mr. Darcy at a great distance, but when she tried to reach him, she could not. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth receives a package. Mary enjoys some peace and quiet. Mrs. Bennet has a guided tour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Gentle Readers, for your patience. I have been awfully busy for these past few days and am only just settling back down. I do have a bit of a cushion of chapters, but I'm actually getting work done on the story. I hope to be a little more regular in my chapter updates. 
> 
> Also thanks to those who have written me. I'll catch up with the correspondence over the next few days as well. Your comments are always, always appreciated.

The plan worked out by Mary and Elizabeth for the management of the younger girls began smoothly. The next morning, Friday, Elizabeth came downstairs early for her walk only to find Mary already waiting for her. "I thought I had best be up and fully dressed in case there were problems," she observed. When Elizabeth tried to thank her, she held up a hand. "No need for that. While you are out walking, I will have two perfectly quiet hours to pursue my reading." She held up a book. "Mrs. Hill is bringing me some tea. Go ahead and enjoy your walk, Lizzy." 

The cold was biting, and Elizabeth realized that she would need to increase her mourning wardrobe to include a warmer pair of gloves and possibly a bonnet. She pushed her thinly-gloved hands deeper into her pockets and kept walking. She covered three brisk miles, doubling back toward Longbourn by a circuitous route, and by the time she reached the house, she was famished as well as being half-frozen.  

As she walked into the front hall, Hill gave her a small parcel. "This come for you by express, Miss Bennet." 

"Thank you, Mrs. Hill." Elizabeth removed her pelisse and bonnet and took her package into her father's library. There was no other wrapping but the brown paper it had been sent in, but there was a note:

_I trust the enclosed notebooks will be useful to you as you undertake the many tasks that now await you._ _I have found my own notebooks to be surpassingly useful over the years in tracking projects both great and small. I shall collect a farthing from you upon my return to_ _Netherfield_ _in payment for the knife. -Fitzwilliam Darcy_

Elizabeth laid out the contents of the package. It included a dozen compact leather-bound notebooks, a dozen lead-pencils, and a small silver penknife to sharpen them. She smiled at his clear allusion to the old superstition that a knife must never be given as a gift. She could hear the others coming down to breakfast, so she hastily gathered the items back into the brown paper and placed them in a drawer of her father's desk. As she entered the dining room, she found she was the last of the family to sit down at the breakfast-table. 

"How was your walk, Lizzy?" Mary's voice was both polite and interested. 

"I cannot imagine why you are always out walking in weather like this," sniffed Mrs. Bennet. "You will catch your death of cold, and then where will I be? I cannot manage these girls without some help." 

"Well, I did have a thought," replied Elizabeth. She turned to Lydia. "Lydia, you are obviously the most accomplished among us when it comes to renewing bonnets. Do you recall my rust-colored round bonnet?"

"Yes," replied her sister, intrigued in spite of herself. "You had it new last year for your trip to Hunsford."

"Well, it is the warmest bonnet I possess, and while I hate to sacrifice it, I wonder if it could be made over with some of the black stuff you purchased yesterday. I am sadly in need of something warmer than what I have, and I do hate to spend money on a black bonnet." 

"Yes, you will never wear it again when we leave off our mourning. Let me think on it for a few minutes. I believe it would be possible to cover it so that the warm material remains beneath but does not show. And we certainly have plenty of both the crepe and the bombazine."

Elizabeth stood. "Remember that Mr. Bingley is coming for us in his carriage to take us to see Rose Cottage. Kitty, Lydia, if you want to walk about, be certain you are wearing boots. It is quite muddy and dirty there. I would also suggest your older, warm pelisses. We will not encounter anyone while we are there." She turned to her mother. "Mama, do you still want to go?" 

"Of course, I still want to go. And I am wearing my warmest boots already."

Mary fled gratefully to her books, and Elizabeth went to the library. She extracted one of the notebooks and sat carefully sharpening a pencil with the new penknife. She wrapped the extra pencils and notebooks in their original brown-paper wrapping and took them upstairs, placing the sharp pencil, penknife, and notebook in a pocket of her gown. As she descended to the front hall, she could hear Charles' carriage-wheels on the sweep. 

Charles was brimming with news, which he related during the short ride to the cottage. "Darcy is bringing his head-gardener, Hobbs, as well as an under-gardener to see about the grounds. He meets today with a master builder, and this afternoon he will be meeting with his man of business to begin the process of recruiting a proper steward for Netherfield." 

"He certainly knows how to get things done," sniffed Mrs. Bennet. "It is too bad he is so persistently disagreeable." 

"You will find him quite different when you get to know him, Mrs. Bennet." The carriage turned off on the lane to the cottage. "Watch closely. The cottage will come into view shortly." 

Elizabeth's mother and sisters fell silent as they saw the building. It looked forlorn and quite forbidding silhouetted against the backdrop of barren woods and gray sky. "My, my," said Mrs. Bennet, sounding a bit breathy. "It certainly does need a great deal of work. But the brickwork is—is handsome. And I see they have made a beginning on the roof! Are those canvas cloths covering up holes?"

"Yes, ma'am," replied Charles. "I feel certain that the master-builder will give orders that the roof work be undertaken first—except, perhaps, for the chimneys, which will be carefully checked. Would you care to see the ground floor?" 

"I believe so." Charles got out of the carriage and helped the ladies down one by one. He indicated a pathway of planks he had ordered to be placed from the lane to the front door and gave Mrs. Bennet his arm as they proceeded up the rough walkway. The door was closed by means of a hasp and lock, which he opened with a key from his pocket. Then he helped each lady up the step and over the threshold. 

"This is one of the larger parlors," he said to Mrs. Bennet as she entered the room. "There is another this size that could well serve as the dining-room." He indicated a door on the opposite side of the small center hallway. 

Mrs. Bennet looked around her. "There is a great deal of work to be done indoors as well, is there not? Her hand went to some of the wainscoting and elegant moldings, dusty and sagging, that ornamented the walls. "However, I do believe this mill-work greatly resembles that of the manor-house. Do you not think so, Lizzy?"

"I agree, Mama. For example, take note of this fireplace. While the mantel is wood as opposed to marble, the carving is very elegant under all that grime, as is the paneling just above." 

"We can manage a little grime, child. It really does present quite an elegant appearance, and just what would be wanted in a charming cottage. But these floors are dreadful!" 

"They are to be repaired, Mrs. Bennet. I am certain that will be one of the last projects in the renovation. And do not forget, Jane has found the carpets for these rooms." 

Elizabeth jotted notes from time to time, mostly about what her mother liked. When all four of the main rooms had been toured, Bingley ushered them to the door, pointedly ignoring the library. Mrs. Bennet did not appear to notice. "Would you like to tour the garden area, Mrs. Bennet?" Bingley indicated the bench beneath the elm tree.

"I think not, Mr. Bingley. It is just a little too dirty for me after all this rain. Will you walk with me along the lane so that I may view the rose bushes at least from that angle? They are quite overgrown, and they will be in need of attention very soon." 

Bingley obligingly escorted her up the lane as Elizabeth followed, taking notes. "Many of these are simply old briar roses. I can tell by the shape of the thorns," said Mrs. Bennet. "While these others—with these it will be impossible to tell until the spring is further advanced." She paused, considering. "While they appear to have been planted indiscriminately, I believe that someone chose and placed them for effect. It will be interesting to hear what Mr. Darcy's man has to say." 

Elizabeth would later confess herself to have been amazed. While she was accustomed to hearing her mother assert herself on subjects about which she clearly knew nothing, and while Mrs. Bennet was comfortable in her own sphere of socializing, meals, and home life, Elizabeth had seldom heard her discourse on any topic with such expertise and genuine authority. 

Charles conducted the ladies home, and when they had eaten their luncheon, Lydia asked Elizabeth to retrieve the rust-colored bonnet. The entire family settled into the parlor, and Lydia, assisted by Kitty, got out chalk and pins and began to measure and mark. 

Mrs. Bennet came to sit at the table with her younger daughters and watch the bonnet makeover. "You are so clever, Lydia! Perhaps you shall open a stylish milliner's shop in Town, and Kitty shall be your assistant. Then our fortunes would be made!"

"No, thank you, Mama. I am happy to do this for Lizzie, but I intend to marry an officer and make merry all my days. I shall have dresses from the finest modistes, and all my bonnets are to be made for me." 

"And perhaps you shall, child. Perhaps you shall." 

Elizabeth turned to her next-oldest sister. "How was your morning, Mary?"  

"Peaceful. Quiet. I got a great deal accomplished. I hope to see the cottage at some point, but it was pleasant to be alone among my books this morning." 

Elizabeth actually found time to reply to Charlotte's letter as well as to write several notes of thanks and acknowledgment that needed to be attended to. The chatter of her mother and the girls was noisy, but not unpleasant, and the sounds of Mary's music practice were muted by the closed doors. She was actually surprised when dinner was announced. 

Dinner was occupied by Lydia's barrage of questions about what colors they could wear for half-mourning when the time arrived. She and Kitty seemed pleased by the ideas of white with black trim, or soft lavender. They reacted less well to gray until Mrs. Bennet pointed out that a light dove-gray could be very fashionable. "I suppose so," sighed Lydia. "Particularly with a black lace trimming the neckline."

"Child, you know perfectly well that young, unmarried ladies do not wear lace of that kind. I have never permitted you to wear it, and you will not wear it while you remain unmarried."

Lydia threw her napkin down in disgust. "And what are we to do? How are we to attract the officers when we have to go about looking like scarecrows? It simply is not fair." 

"You will not be attracting any officers while your father is not yet cold in his grave," sniffed her mother. 

Lydia scoffed and stood up from the table. "Please excuse me. I have quite lost my appetite. Lizzie, your bonnet will be ready by bedtime." 

"Thank you, Lydia." 

"Black lace, indeed," sniffed Mrs. Bennet.

When dinner was over, Elizabeth sat with the others and looked through her several pages of notes, adding a revision or two as she thought of them. She resolved that she would do this each day. Almost as an afterthought, she added the date at the top of the first page. At the end of the notes she scribbled a line about the weather and added, "A good day." Then she turned to the next fresh page and wrote the next day's date on the first line.

"What is that you are scribbling, Lizzy?" Mrs. Bennet gave her an inquiring look. 

"Mr. Darcy has sent me a dozen small, blank notebooks. He heard me observe that there is a great deal to remember about the work on the cottage. They arrived this morning from a stationer's in London." Elizabeth had decided quickly that the silver penknife could remain a secret. 

"Well, it is a little peculiar," replied her mother. "But as long as they are of little value, I suppose the gift is not inappropriate." 

She was very tired as she sought her bed that night, and she sat for a long time brushing out her hair. Mrs. Hill had thoughtfully brought in the warming-pan, and the bed was warm, comfortable, and so welcoming. She was asleep almost immediately.

_She stood at the edge of a green forest,_ _conscious of the fact that she was barefoot and that her hair was not done up. They caught sight of each other in the same moment. He stood on a welcoming little forest path that wound away into the trees. She was acutely aware that he was bareheaded and in his shirtsleeves—as casually dressed as she was._ _A_ _breeze was lifting the tresses of his_ _hair,_ _and she was_ _filled with a_ _longing to touch it, to touch him. He smiled and held out his arms, and she felt the need to be held by him as an almost physical ache. She could feel herself trembling as she began to_ _hurry_ _toward_ _him._

_With a palpable shock, she realized that there was a barrier of some sort between them—transparent, invisible, but nonetheless insurmountable. She placed her hands on it. He approached from his side and placed his hands against hers, but she could not feel them. His lips moved, but she could not hear him speak._

Elizabeth woke to another gray dawn, disturbed by the feeling of her sheets and covers twisted uncomfortably beneath her. The remnants of her dream had stayed with her, and she felt disturbed and somehow guilty. She had never been in a man's arms before, and she had no idea that what she had felt in her dream was awakening desire. She also felt unaccountably sad over the terrible barrier that had separated her from Fitzwilliam Darcy. 

She got up quickly, as she usually did, and was washed, dressed, and downstairs before Susan came up. Today was Saturday. She might see him today. The chill was biting, and she was glad of her warm, new bonnet. She walked down the drive, and when she got to the lane, she broke into a run. But she could not outrun the tangle of feelings that had been brought on by her dream. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Sunday dinner

Although they had to get up early Saturday morning, Jane and Bingley did take the opportunity to enjoy breakfast together in their shared sitting room. The morning post was brought in with their tray, and they sat in companionable silence reading their mail. 

"Well, dearest, it seems that the rest of our peace will be coming to an end," said Bingley, throwing down his letter. "Caroline will be here with the Hursts in six weeks." He gave a deep sigh. "My guess is that Darcy will still be here and that they will be in the thick of the work on the cottage. It does not bear too much thinking of."

"Do not worry, Charles. We will get through it together. Perhaps we can enjoy a nice, quiet honeymoon in the fall, once Mama and the girls are settled in." 

"You are very patient, my angel!" Bingley stood and kissed his bride. "I had better get dressed. Darcy will be here before we know it." 

Darcy's large travelling-coach rumbled up the drive at eleven o'clock, and by half-past one the workmen had been shown to their rooms, been given a storage area for their tools, and had consumed a hearty mid-day meal. At two o'clock, Darcy, Bingley, and the four men made the short walk to Rose Cottage. The idea was for them to get some general idea of the dimensions of the cottage and the extent of the work required. The weather was sunny and cold, and the men busied themselves for almost three hours. Hobbs and Moore conferred together, and when that was done, they came to Darcy and Bingley, who had been interested bystanders. 

Moore, referring to his notes, was cautiously optimistic. "The building is in very sound shape. The roof, of course, must be our highest priority. Mr. Bingley, I would like to recruit a chimney man to evaluate and clean the chimneys, and that could be done as soon as Monday. The sooner the better. If there is a reliable local man, that would more than suffice. By Monday afternoon, I should have bills of materials for the various projects and a list of required labor. I believe this work could be completed within one month to six weeks, depending on the weather. That assumes that those employed are skilled at their trades." 

Hobbs was also optimistic, although his report was of necessity somewhat vague. "Sir, I believe what we have here is a mixture of climbers and ramblers—that is, roses that can be trained to cover a wall, fence, or trellis and roses that have a more spreading habit. There's no way of telling until they begin to put out their leaves, although I can tell by the thorns that a number of them are old-fashioned briar roses—what we used to call dog-roses. Our approach must be to use sound methods to prune all of them, leaving a few good shoots on each bush."

Hobbs indicated the gap in the hedge. "I should like to proceed to install a small arbor there at the gap with a wicket-gate to be added after the repairs to the cottage are well in hand. Workers, tradesmen, and deliveries should be required to use the areas where there are no shrubs to enter and leave the site. Mr. Moore agrees with me that this should not present too great a difficulty. If Mr. Bingley has men available, I can set them to work turning the soil in the back while Murphy and I do the actual pruning. I can add my items to Mr. Moore's bill of materials." 

"Well done, Hobbs." The four men walked back to the house in the gathering darkness. 

Jane hurried to greet her husband and Darcy. Her attire and appearance caused both men to smile. She was dressed in a very old, and hastily dyed black frock, her smooth blonde hair covered in a plain mobcap that clearly showed smudges of dust and dirt. She was enveloped in a large white pinafore, also none too clean. A most engaging smudge of dust decorated her left cheek. She wiped her hands on the pinafore before coming forward. 

"Mr. Darcy, I have come to regard you as a member of the family, so I am not going to apologize for my appearance. I trust you will forgive me for it, as I have been on a great adventure. Your regular rooms are ready for you, sir." 

Darcy took her offered hand in both of his and smiled down. "Your appearance is always perfect, Mrs. Bingley, and I am honored that you consider me a member of your family. I expect you will want to relate the particulars of your adventure, and we will be interested to hear them." 

Jane accepted a kiss from her husband and said, "Let me go upstairs for just a moment, and I will join you in my small sitting room. You are most welcome to go ahead and order a tea tray." She ran lightly up the stairs. The gentlemen agreed that a tot of brandy would not come amiss as they awaited her and proceeded to Bingley's study to pour out their drinks. It was not long before Jane came to the parlor, and they could tell she was big with news.

"You had better tell us, my angel, before you spontaneously combust," said Bingley. 

"I took another little tour around the attics this afternoon, this time in the company of a footman. I have uncovered a great many treasures for Rose Cottage. They were apparently there before, and they are all marked." 

"What sorts of treasures, Jane?"

"I found barrels of porcelain, crystal, flatware, and plate, all well packed in straw with the silver pieces in velvet bags. There is all manner of furniture—chairs, settees, sofas, small tables and the like, all under holland covers and needing nothing more than a good polishing. A beautiful, graceful dining-room table, chairs, and sideboard.  I am surprised at the fine quality of the items I have found so far. They do not appear to predate—well, let me think. They do not appear to predate my own parents' marriage by too many years. Everything is simple and elegant. I would say it is timeless."

"Were there monograms or crests on any of the silver?" Darcy was interested in spite of himself. 

"None that I could discern. It did need a good rubbing. There was a great deal of tarnish." 

"What about books or papers?" 

"I saw nothing of that nature, but there are still areas of the attic to be discovered." Jane's tone grew more thoughtful. "These items are of better quality than much of what we have at Longbourn. I cannot help wondering who they belonged to. Tis a mystery, that much is certain." 

The group parted to dress for dinner, and when they were seated in the dining-room, Darcy found himself returning to the subject of the items Jane had found. 

"It occurs to me, Mrs. Bingley, that if you are interested in the mystery of the furnishings, there are two possible avenues of research you might pursue. First, do you know who among your servants has been here longest?"

"I believe that would be our housekeeper, Mrs. Nicholls. If she has not, she will know who has." 

"You might begin by questioning her on the subject. There might also be older people on the estate who might know. And finally, you might appeal to the vicars at both Longbourn and Meryton. Perhaps something exists in the parish records. Finally, Mr. Phillips may have some idea." 

"All very good ideas. I believe just at first, I will confine myself to searching through the attic space where I have found all these things. I should like eventually to show them to my mother. Knowing her, she may decide that she would prefer some of them to her own things, most of which were bought new at the time of my parents' marriage." Jane laid down her knife and fork for a moment. "Besides, as much as I love Charlotte Lucas, I do not entirely trust Mr. Collins."

Bingley smiled and shook his head. "We all know you believe the best of everyone. In fact, I should say you believe in believing the best." 

"Thank you, my dear. I should like to continue in that vein. But it does no one any good if I am stupid about it." 

###

The next morning, Sunday, Mrs. Bennet had expressed the desire that the entire family be present at church. Elizabeth went out for her early walk, taking a carrot in her pocket, but she encountered no one. When she returned and went to join the others for breakfast, she thanked Lydia for the work on her bonnet. "It is toasty-warm and fashionable in the bargain," she said. "In fact, I intend to wear it to church this morning." She also made certain she had a farthing in her reticule, for it was almost certain she would encounter Mr. Darcy at the service.

"Remember, girls, we are invited to Sunday dinner by Jane and Charles. Be sure to look your best. I suppose that disagreeable Mr. Darcy will be there, but I am inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt. He seems to be doing a great deal of work on Rose Cottage." 

Indeed, they did encounter Mr. Darcy, together with the Bingleys, sitting in a pew not far from their own. He was blessed with a clear, strong baritone voice which he used to good advantage during the closing psalm. Elizabeth, who enjoyed employing her own voice, felt unaccountably shy and sang more quietly than usual. Still, both of their voices could be heard, pleasantly rising over the mumbled efforts of most of the congregation. 

The families were delayed outside the church by the many neighbors who wished to inquire about the Bennet's. Elizabeth stood aside, and Darcy soon made his way through the crowds to join her.  "Miss Bennet. I hope you are well this morning." Darcy bowed with his usual grave manner. 

"Quite well, thank you." Elizabeth dropped a curtsey, willing herself not to blush. "I must thank you for the notebooks. They arrived the day after you left." She reached into her pocket and pulled out the one she had begun writing in, opening it to that day's page. "As you can see, I have already begun to put the first one to good use. I find it helpful to begin each day's notes with the day and date." 

Darcy gave her one of his melting smiles before returning to his customary gravity. "I am delighted you are finding them useful. You have many responsibilities now." 

Elizabeth decided to risk smiling back. "I was amazed at how quickly I became accustomed to writing down small memoranda." She opened her reticule and extracted the farthing she had placed there earlier. "And this is in payment for the knife. It really is lovely, and it rides along in my pocket as well in case I break my pencil." 

He smiled again, this time showing his dimple. She was surprised to see him place the farthing in his watch-pocket as opposed to some other pocket where he might keep small change. He bowed, still smiling. "Thank you. We shall consider that as payment in full. Now, it looks as though our party is ready to leave. Permit me to conduct you to the carriage." In another move which astonished her, he offered her his arm, and they walked together to the Bingley carriage. 

Dinner was the usual midday Sunday feast of cold meats. It was enlivened by Darcy's report on the preliminary findings of the workmen he had brought in the day before. 

"I must say, Mr. Darcy, that my daughters and I are very grateful to you," said Mrs. Bennet. "You are doing a great deal towards seeing us settled in our new home. I have seen the cottage, and I believe it will comfortable and commodious for the four of us. And so convenient to Jane and Charles." She smiled at Darcy, who nodded gravely. Elizabeth looked at Jane. Neither of them had ever heard their mother speak to Darcy with such civility. 

"We must set a time for you to speak with my head-gardener, Hobbs," said Darcy. "He has seen the garden and has formed some opinions. He is eager to get started with the pruning and has brought an assistant with him." 

"Oh, yes. The pruning should be undertaken very soon, Mr. Darcy. Otherwise we will be unable to do it until next year, and the plants will have another year to become wild and unruly."

"My ignorance of roses is boundless, but Hobbs has an idea for leaving several vigorous shoots on each bush which he says will do them good no matter what variety they may be." 

"He is absolutely right, Mr. Darcy." 

"I should like to suggest that I bring him to wait upon you tomorrow morning at your earliest convenience. That will spare you from any necessity for being out in the cold and the mud, Mrs. Bennet." 

"Breakfast is at nine. I shall be ready to receive you at any time after ten o'clock." 

As they continued their meal, Jane addressed her mother. "Mama, I have been treasure-hunting in the attics. And I have unearthed some genuine treasures which I think you should see for yourself. It seems that most of the entire contents of Rose Cottage were carefully wrapped, packed, and stored here at some point. I have found fine china and crystal, silver and plate, and beautiful furniture, all carefully stored and marked 'Rose Cottage.' Would you like to look at them after dinner?" 

"Certainly, dearest Jane. It will be interesting to see what you have discovered." 

"Do you know anything about who might have lived in the cottage, Mama?" 

"No, dear. An elderly gentleman lived here with his wife. They were not titled, though they certainly were wealthy, and Netherfield was a very prosperous estate when I was a girl." She looked up in thought. "Both the gentleman and his wife died when I was in my early teens, well before I knew your father. They had no children that I knew of. Their name was Devereaux. I believe one of their nephews—or great-nephews—owned the estate and sold it to our dear Charles." 

"You are correct, Mrs. Bennet. I first leased and then purchased Netherfield from an old gentleman, a Mr. Devereaux. I do not believe he has any close family. He is either a bachelor or a widower. I never inquired too closely." 

When dinner was ended, Jane took her mother and Elizabeth to the attics. Mrs. Bennet had a good look around, and when they returned to the rest of the party, she said, "While it is not brand-new, I must say, it is of the first quality. That makes it timeless." She sipped her tea thoughtfully. "It certainly is much finer than most of what we have at Longbourn." 

Elizabeth, Jane, and Mary exchanged glances. Mrs. Bennet was known for her attraction to glitter and fashion, and they had not expected her to recognize the quality of the Rose Cottage pieces.

"Are you not thinking of selling it, dear Charles?"

"Oh, no, Mrs. Bennet! I sincerely doubt it would be worth the trouble of selling it in London. It is yours if you wish to have it." 

"Then I say yes. Rose Cottage will be a little jewel." Mrs. Bennet fanned herself with her handkerchief. "We can worry about the rest of the furniture later." 

She asked that the carriage be brought around a few minutes later, and the Bennets rode home in the gathering darkness. 

When Darcy sought his bed that night, he removed the farthing from his pocket and placed it carefully in the small leather box where he kept his watch and chain, the timepiece he had inherited from his own father. It was the only jewelry he wore aside from the small signet ring he had also inherited. He stared out of the window with unseeing eyes. She had seemed glad to see him after church. Her smile had seemed gracious, her eyes had sparkled. He recalled the sweetness of her voice blending softly with his own during the hymns and psalms. Few things gave him greater pleasure than hearing her sing. Darcy struck the windowsill with his fist. He would not give up. It was not yet time to give up. 

Elizabeth, for her part, bundled a warm shawl over her dressing-gown and sat in her window-seat, knees drawn up to her chin. He had smiled at her so agreeably—not once, but several times. She recalled catching sight of the dimple which she had never really seen before. It made her want to make him smile again, although she thought his smiles were probably rare. She had always been so gregarious, so at ease in company. Could he, she wondered, be shy? Could such a condition afflict a man of such wealth and power? She thought she recalled his mentioning something of the sort one evening at Rosings. Was her memory accurate? She turned the idea over and over in her mind but could reach no satisfactory conclusion. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An early meeting. A garden is planned. Mrs. Bingley becomes a detective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gentle Readers,
> 
> I have learned that I will need some minor but extremely annoying surgery. A ganglion cyst has appeared on my right wrist, and it is making it difficult to write either with pen and paper or a computer keyboard, my customary method. I have made arrangements to have it Go Away this coming Friday, December 1, 2017. I have no idea how long it takes to recuperate from this and hope it will not be too long. 
> 
> Our story is all outlined and sketched and is proceeding according to plan, so no worries about an abandoned WIP. I will try to get one more chapter done this week. If you are following the story and have not already done so, you may want to hit the button marked "subscribe" at the upper right of the page. AO3 will send a non-spammy update to your email address on file when a new chapter is posted. If something ghastly goes on, I will post a short update myself here in the story area. Thanks for your patience!
> 
> I am also committing a larger than usual number of typos. If you happen to see any, you will be doing me a kindness by pointing them out.

Monday brought a great change in the weather. Elizabeth awoke to blue skies and a slight breeze that seemed almost balmy. She knew full well that it was not yet time for spring, but the day at least held out a promise that they would have spring eventually. She met Mary again downstairs, and after placing an apple in her pocket, she was out the door and headed up the lane. 

She encountered Darcy and Sirdar in about the same place on the lane where she had met them the previous week. In fact, Darcy had dismounted and seemed to be waiting for her. He bowed gravely. "Good morning, Miss Bennet. I thought we might encounter you this morning." 

Elizabeth curtsied and smiled. "And so you have. Good morning, Mr. Darcy." She looked at the horse, who seemed to be nodding at her. He had lowered his head, and he nudged her hand very gently with his nose. 

"If I might serve as interpreter, Sirdar is asking you, in the language of his people, if you would do him the honor of scratching his head, just here between his ears. I assure you he will be much indebted to you." He demonstrated. 

Elizabeth smiled. "Of course." She reached out, still fearless, and rubbed the horse's glossy head, first gently, then more firmly. She was rewarded with a contented  _whuff_ _!_ and another nudge. "I am forgetting, dear sir, that I have brought you a treat this morning." She took out the apple and offered it on the flat of her hand. The well-mannered horse took it gently and consumed it with every appearance of enjoyment. 

"He thanks you kindly," said Darcy. She looked up at him to see that his smile had returned, once more revealing that engaging dimple. "I must say that nearly all the ladies of my acquaintance are a little afraid of him. He is large, but there is no malice at all in his nature." 

Elizabeth smiled back. "He is a gentle giant. He has obviously been brought up with kindness." 

"Do you enjoy riding, Miss Bennet?"

"When I get the chance, which is not often. Our sweet old mare should probably be given a pension and a nice home in a nearby pasture. She is—well, she is tired. But when I can find a more spirited horse, I do enjoy the exercise."

"As do I." They had reached the turnoff to Meryton. "I must leave you here, Miss Bennet. I have urgent business in Meryton. Will you continue your walk, or would you like me to see you home?" 

"Oh, no thank you! I will walk for a while longer this way before turning around. It is quite safe, I assure you." 

Darcy bowed, and she saw that his customarily grave expression had returned. "I will bring Hobbs to wait upon your mother at eleven this morning." 

"Until then, Mr. Darcy." She curtsied, thinking as she did so that perhaps his eyes were somewhat softened from their usual dark disapproval. As she walked on, Sirdar's hoofbeats faded in the distance. She walked on for another mile or so, then turned for home, wondering what the breakfast hour would bring from Lydia and Kitty. Would it be squabbles or cooperation?

Breakfast was mercifully, blessedly peaceful, and Elizabeth had the additional pleasure of looking forward to a quiet morning. Lydia and Kitty were full of plans for a morning-visit to Maria Lucas followed by luncheon with Aunt Phillips. Mary promised to bring home any news of Charlotte from Lady Lucas. 

Mrs. Bennet was full of plans for meeting with Hobbs, the head-gardener. "It is not every day one gets to consult with a head-gardener associated with such a large, illustrious estate. Even though he is only the head-gardener at the house in town, I feel there is much I can learn from him." 

Elizabeth smiled at her mother. "Mama! I have lived with you for my whole life, and I am just now realizing that you are happiest when you have a gardening project!" 

"Oh, child," said her mother with a touch of her old impatience. "Of course, I am. It is simply not a ladylike avocation! What sort of lady passes her time in the mud and dirt, destroying her complexion and breaking her nails?" She regarded her hands, which were soft and delicate. "All a lady can do is plan and direct. But if I were forced to be truthful, I would say that one of my chief enjoyments is coaxing things to grow out of the dirt." 

"Well, Rose Cottage should provide you with plenty of scope for your interests," replied Elizabeth. "Where are you going to receive Mr. Darcy and Hobbs? I had thought perhaps Papa's library might be best so that you could examine the drawings on the desk and make notes." 

"No, I shall receive them in the back parlor. We can sit at the round table in there, and I will be more comfortable." 

The family rose from the dining-table, and Lydia, Mary, and Kitty went upstairs to get ready for their outing. As they came downstairs, carriage-wheels rumbled on the drive, and soon they were receiving Mr. Darcy and Hobbs. Mr. Darcy bowed gravely to Mrs. and Miss Bennet and begged leave to introduce Mr. Hobbs, head gardener at Darcy House for many years, but formerly of Pemberley. Hobbs greeted the ladies with the perfect combination of ease and deference shown by the best and oldest family retainers.

"I thought we might gather in the back parlor, Mr. Darcy." Mrs. Bennet indicated the way. "There is a large table back here where we may sit comfortably. I see you have brought many drawings, Mr. Darcy." 

To Elizabeth's everlasting astonishment, Darcy smiled agreeably at her mother as he pulled out chairs first for her, then for Elizabeth. "Yes, Madam. I know very little of roses, but Hobbs is a master gardener. I am not certain the London house provides adequate scope for his many talents. And I will confide one thing more to you. He is anxious to realize an ideal cottage-garden. Cottage-gardens at Pemberley are generally practical spaces involving vegetables and chickens. Hobbs has quite a different vision for Rose Cottage, and I will leave him to explain it to you."

Elizabeth had pulled out her notebook, but she had very little to write down. Mrs. Bennet and Hobbs were soon immersed in his plans and drawings. While Mrs. Bennet had a number of pointed questions and suggestions, she was generally delighted, exclaiming over each new rendering. Elizabeth stole a look at Darcy over their heads, found he was looking back at her, and ventured a smile, which was returned. 

Finally, Mrs. Bennet sat back. "And will you be able to spare Mr. Hobbs from his duties in London, Mr. Darcy?" 

"I see no reason why not, Mrs. Bennet. The staff there have their orders, and the second gardener is certainly capable of seeing to the regular spring activities. We have no plans for any expansion or for any delicate, new plantings, have we, Hobbs?"

"No, sir. The garden in Town is in capable hands. However, this brings us to an important question." He turned to Mrs. Bennet. "Meryton lies but thirty miles north of London. We will begin pruning the roses there this week. Am I right in believing your gardeners here will be doing the same?"

"Yes," she replied. "It is just about time, and if not done soon, we will be forced to wait." 

"Very good, madam. We will begin the pruning tomorrow, and with Mr. Darcy's permission, I will send word when we are finished so that you may come and inspect the work." 

"Certainly, Hobbs. Will you finish your list of materials today?"

"Yes, sir. Now that I understand Mrs. Bennet's wishes, we can begin the work immediately." 

The group stood. To Elizabeth's astonishment, the discussion had been going on for more than an hour, almost an hour and a half. As the two men took their leave, she realized that while she had not taken any notes, she had netted several beautiful smiles from Mr. Darcy and very few grim looks at all. She decided to go to her room and sit in her window seat—her favorite thinking spot indoors—to puzzle over this question. 

As Darcy and Hobbs turned toward Netherfield, Darcy said, "You should be back in time for your dinner, Hobbs. What are your plans for the afternoon?"

"Well, sir, I will have more than enough time to finish my list of materials so that you may review it. It can then be sent to Murchison in London. And tomorrow, we will get started on the actual labor. If I may say so, sir, Mrs. Bennet knows what she is about. Her judgments on the garden may be trusted." 

Darcy regarded him with poorly concealed astonishment but said nothing. He had difficulty perceiving that particular lady as competent in anything.

###

Since her marriage, Jane had adopted the wise practice of spending an hour or two at the beginning of each week conferring with Mrs. Nicholls, her housekeeper. This Monday was no exception, and the two ladies settled themselves in the comfortable, sunny parlor Jane had claimed as her own. Once they had settled the week's menus, the marketing, and the more serious matter of a laundrymaid who found herself with child, Jane moved on to the question that had awakened her curiousity. 

"I believe you have been here longer than just about any of the other servants, Mrs. Nicholls. What can you tell me about the history of Rose Cottage?"

Jane thought she saw a flicker of sorrow cross the placid face of her housekeeper. "I do not know a great deal about it, Mrs. Bingley, except that it involves some great sadness. My mother would know more. She is now in her eighty-fifth year and is very frail, though her mind is still sharp. She lives with my sister and her husband, who is Mr. Thompson, one of the larger tenants at Longbourn." Mrs. Nicholls paused before continuing. "Please pardon me for saying so, Mrs. Bingley. But you are a young and lovely bride--and a happy bride. Are you certain you wish to acquaint yourself with the sorrows and griefs of the past when your future is so bright?"

"It is very kind of you to be concerned, Mrs. Nicholls," said Jane, laying her hand briefly on the housekeeper's. "But I feel it is important to know as much as I can about the history of my new home. Such stories, both the good and the bad, need to be treasured and passed on to future generations." 

"I understand. If it meets with your approval, I will see my sister at market tomorrow. I will ask her how Mother is doing and when it would be best to visit. She becomes tired, and when she is tired she will fall asleep regardless of her company." 

Jane smiled. "I understand completely. Let me know after you have talked with your sister, and we two will take your mother a basket of her favorite things to eat."

###

The Netherfield party found much to discuss at dinner that evening. Neatly organized lists of materials and supplies had been dispatched by express to London. The first shipments were expected within the week. The chimneys had been inspected and cleaned by the local chimney man, who was not usually busy at this time of year. He pronounced them to be in basically good repair, requiring new chimney pots and flashings which would be added when the roof was put on.

Hobbs had completed his list of materials, and it had been sent along to London with the other lists. He and the assistant were prepared to begin the arduous work of pruning the next morning, and it would take most of the remainder of the week. 

As the meal continued, Darcy turned to Bingley with a question. "What is planned in the way of staff at the Cottage?" 

"As far as I know, they will have Mr. and Mrs. Hill, Cook, Susan as maid, and a scullery-maid. The ladies will assist one another, so there will not be a ladies' maid. They will not keep a stable, and once the garden is complete, it will be maintained by my gardeners." Bingley put down his fork. "Their uncles and I have undertaken to defray the cost of the servants among ourselves. None of us is comfortable with the thought that they might not be comfortable." 

Jane's eyes were bright with unshed tears as she added softly, "You are a good man, Charles Bingley." 

Darcy cleared his throat. "I see. We will need to arrange for Mrs. Hill and Cook to come and take a look at the kitchen. It is in very poor repair and is probably the worst room in the house. We will wish to acquire a modern stove, install cupboards and tables, and do whatever else is necessary to restore it to a useful state. There is a housekeeper's parlor and bedchamber, but they have no windows. The Hills may want to select one of the bedchambers on the top floor. My only other concern is that mice and other vermin have infested the kitchen. They need to be got rid of before we bring someone in to clean it thoroughly. 

Jane gave a musical laugh. "You need to recruit a good mouser or two, Mr. Darcy. I shall make some discreet inquiries, and I shall also ensure that a goodly supply of delicious cream is provided."  


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A grim discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here at long last is the continuation of "Rose Cottage." This is a short chapter, but it presents a mystery. 
> 
> I'd like to thank everyone for their kind notes and concern over the past weeks and for patiently bearing with me as I got the mojo working in my fingers again. I'm not quite there yet, but I am better than I was. I hope to be more regular and reliable about posting.
> 
> Many thanks!

By midweek, work on the cottage had begun in earnest. Hobbs and his assistant were deeply involved in their meticulous work with the roses, and large piles of debris had begun accumulating. Hobbs, with a gardener's eye for compost, ordered that the piles be moved to a forested area across the lane from the cottage. He rejoiced to find life deep within the dead-looking plants, and by Wednesday had reported to Darcy that most of the roses could be saved.

Materials also began to arrive on Wednesday. Hobbs and Moore had set up a large deal table and two chairs in the front parlor near a window, and they began to spend more and more time at their joint desk checking off materials and supplies on their long lists. It was soon an organized chaos of lists, plans, pens, pencils and ink, though the two men seemed to know the exact location of everything they needed. Skilled roofers also arrived from London on Wednesday, and by afternoon, the area around the cottage rang with mens' shouts, the blows of hammers, and occasional cries of warning when a slate skittered down the steep pitch and fell to the ground.   
Darcy, ever fascinated with work of this nature, observed that the chaotic scene was in reality meticulously organized, and that the work proceeded according to specific plans laid out by his two lead men. He steadfastly resisted the temptation to swing a hammer or pick up a saw, realizing that he would for the most part be in the way. Nevertheless, the work pleased him. He continued to ride out each morning on Sirdar, and he was rewarded with Elizabeth Bennet's company about half the time. He would dismount, and they would stand and talk for a few minutes, often discussing progress at the cottage. Her manners pleased him enormously. Although she was still of a teasing disposition, her speech with him had lost some of the sharpness that had marked it the previous fall and during the spring visit to Rosings. He was able to perceive the teasing as pleasant, and while he was sometimes slow to respond, she seemed to appreciate his efforts.

He met Elizabeth on Thursday morning, and after the usual pleasantries and the delivery of Sirdar’s morning treat, they discussed plans that evening for a family dinner to be given by the ladies at Longbourn. “I will give everyone a full report on the work at the cottage,” said Darcy. “It has begun in earnest. I believe your mother will be particularly pleased with the news about the roses.”

Elizabeth dimpled. “I have never seen her throw herself into a project as she has for those roses. I am immeasurably grateful to you, for it keeps her out of trouble. Now, if I could only find something of similar interest to Kitty and Lydia. Something that does not involve dancing and officers.” Her dimple appeared again.

“I cannot help you there, Miss Bennet.” Darcy returned her smile. “But if anything at all occurs to me, I shall inform you immediately.”

With another shared smile, they parted, and Darcy rode into Meryton to retrieve and pay for the project he had requested the jeweler to execute. The farthing, Elizabeth Bennet's payment for the silver knife, had been neatly drilled, and a gold ring had been inserted through it. This was quickly and easily attached to Darcy's gold watch chain. Since he did not affect the common fashion of wearing many fobs, he would see and handle it whenever he pulled out his watch. If the jeweler thought this was an unusual ornament for a gentleman of Darcy's standing, he did not say so, and Darcy would not have cared in any case.

While Darcy was occupied in Meryton, Hobbs put two lads to work in the back laying out and spading up the packed earth for a kitchen-garden. There was ample room to plant rows of vegetables to supply the needs of the house, and he had marked out a well-drained area for an herb garden. The garden patch would be about ten yards from the back of the house and roughly in line with one corner of the dwelling. Although it was far too early to plant, the soil would need to be turned over and spaded up deeply; 18 inches would be about right. They would then add and dig in gypsum, followed a couple of weeks later by good well-rotted manure. The soil in this area of the property was very hard. Hobbs surmised that this had at some point been a farm yard or stable yard, or some area that saw a great deal of traffic. His remedies were tried-and-true, and he had every expectation that the soil could be completely amended.   
Hobbs saw the boys well started and returned to the front garden to continue the patient, exacting work of pruning and supporting the roses that would stay and pulling out those that would go. He and his assistant worked for about an hour with intense, focused concentration. Hobbs was therefore startled when a shout went up from one of the boys working in the back. Moments later, the older boy appeared around the corner of the house at a dead run.

"Mr. Hobbs! You must come. Sammy and me, well, we've found something. Tis important."

Hobbs followed the boy back to the garden plot. The area the boys had begun to spade lay at one corner of the marked-off plot where there was a slight incline. They had turned over an area about ten feet long by three or four feet wide. The younger boy, whose name was Daniel, stood in a deeper area that was only a foot or two wide. His eyes were enormous, and he looked frightened.

Hobbs approached. “What is it, lads? What have you found?” He moved closer and saw that Daniel was standing on a flat, dressed stone that had once been white. The boy occupied only one corner of the stone; the rest was still buried.

“It looks like a stone in a graveyard, Mr. Hobbs,” replied Sammy. “One of the kind as lays flat on the ground and covers t’whole coffin. There’s marks on it. We didn’t want to uncover any more until we told you.”

“Good boy.” Hobbs stepped over the twine marker and gestured for Daniel to move aside. Getting to one knee, he used his hand to brush more dirt away from the stone. Before long he had uncovered the worn lettering, “Not Divided.” Hobbs got to his feet and took the spade from Daniel. “Run along around the front, son, and bring me a broom.” Daniel took off at a run.

Hobbs turned to Sammy. “You and I will continue with the spades, Sammy. I want you to take extra care. Dig down to where you get near the stone and then stop. Throw the dirt into a pile right over there. We don’t want to damage the stone until we see what we have here. You did well to come and fetch me.”

The two set to work slowly and carefully. Daniel returned with a broom, and soon a small crowd of workmen had collected. Most of them were local men, and Hobbs stood and said, “Any of you men recall a church or churchyard hereabouts?”

No one did. “We’ve always had churches in the village at Longbourn and the bigger one in Meryton,” replied one older man. “Next one over’s about five miles from Meryton.”

Hobbs and Sammy continued to dig, and the pile of dirt they removed grew steadily larger. Eventually Hobbs held out his hand, and Daniel gave him the broom. Sammy stepped out of the way but peered down intently. No one noticed the arrival of Mr. Darcy, who came around the cottage and stood quietly behind the knot of workmen. Hobbs continued to sweep, stepping backward, until the stone was free of all dirt. It appeared to be of white marble, soiled and worn, but the inscription was still legible. He stooped and read it aloud: 

Martha Rose Matthews  
September 6, 1755 – December 17, 1772  
Infant Son  
December 17, 1772  
They were lovely and pleasant in their lives  
and in their deaths they were not divided.

  
Darcy stepped forward. “What has happened, Hobbs?”

“This is the plot set aside for the kitchen-garden, sir. It appears we have uncovered a grave, or at least a grave marker.”

Darcy looked thoughtfully down at the stone. “Matthews. Is the name familiar to anyone?” 

Again the men shook there heads. “Not a common family name hereabouts, sir.” 

“Well, Hobbs, before we do anything else, you and these two young men should clear the soil all the way to the edges of the stone. We will need to determine if it is just a stone or if it is covering a grave, possibly enclosed in a vault.” 

“Yes, sir. Stones like this in churchyards are often raised off the ground by the height of two or three courses of bricks. It should be easy enough to determine that.” 

Hobbs and the two boys got started, the men dispersed to their tasks, and Darcy went into the cottage to confer with Moore. About an hour later, Hobbs entered and waited until Darcy was ready to speak to him. “Sir, it appears to be a well-made grave. Someone went to some expense to put it there. The marble slab covers a brick vault that extends about a foot above what was then ground level.” Hobbs looked momentarily troubled. “I had the boys dig into the soil at two different places, each a few feet from the gravesite. It appears that the soil that covered the slab was brought here from some other place at a later time.” 

“Very strange indeed, Mr. Hobbs. We have a woman—hardly more than a girl, really—buried in a place that is remote from any churchyard, and bearing a name that no one seems to recognize. We can assume that the infant buried with her is her child.” He paused for a moment. “We must delay the work on the kitchen garden until I can inform Mr. Bingley. We should also consult with the vicar in Meryton. And I am certain the Bennets and their servants will not be best pleased to have a grave in their vegetable garden.” 

“No, sir.” 

Hobbs returned to his work with the roses while Darcy left to return to Netherfield.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Family Dinner at Longbourn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for your kind notes. I hope eventually to answer each and every one of them!

While Darcy was in Meryton, Jane Bingley was embarked on her own adventure as she and Mrs. Nicholls were driven out to a large and prosperous farmhouse on a lane roughly between the properties of Longbourn and Netherfield. The Thompson farm was the pride—and one of the mainstays—of the estate at Longbourn. It was leased, and very capably managed, by Henry Thompson and his wife Mary, who was the sister of Netherfield’s housekeeper. The farmer’s elderly mother-in-law, a Mrs. Pearson, lived at the farm and was cared for by her daughter. As Mrs. Nicholls had warned Jane, the old lady was by turns as bright as a penny or entirely vague, and one never knew which she would be from one moment to the next. She also informed Jane that her mother had worked as a servant at Netherfield before her marriage.

They carried baskets laden with jam, delicate broth, custard, fruit, roast chicken, and plenty of little cakes and tarts to tempt the appetite of the invalid. As they approached the front door of the farmhouse, it was opened by Mrs. Thompson. She curtsied to Jane and greeted her sister warmly, ushering the visitors into an immaculate parlor. “How is she today, Sister? Able to have company?” The baskets were surrendered to an adolescent daughter who took them away to the kitchen.

“She’s middling today,” replied Mrs. Thompson. “She knows you are coming and is excited to see you, but I did not tell her the reason for your visit.” She turned to Jane with an apologetic look. “We never know from one day to the next, ma’am. But it cannot hurt to try.”

“We will do our best not to tire her, Mrs. Thompson,” replied Jane. “You must tell me if the excitement becomes too much for her.”  
Mrs. Thompson led them to a large, bright bedchamber adjoining the parlor, the “front bedroom” which would normally be occupied by the parents. The room boasted rag rugs and crisp white curtains, and a large bedstead was adorned by an attractive quilted coverlet. A tiny old woman in a white cap was almost lost in the large bed. Her sharp blue eyes twinkled alertly behind steel spectacles.

“Mother, Mrs. Bingley has come to see you,” said Mrs. Nicholls as they approached the bed.

“I know you. You are Miss Jane Bennet as was. Daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Bennet of Longbourn.” Jane approached and held out her hand, and the old woman grasped it. “I wish you happiness on your marriage, Mrs. Bingley. And I am so sorry about your father. He will be sadly missed. Sit down where I can see you, my dear. It’s been many a year since I laid eyes upon you, but you are as beautiful as ever.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Pearson.” Jane sat in the chair by the bed, but Mrs. Pearson did not relinquish her hand. “I am exploring a bit of a mystery. Mrs. Nicholls suggested that as you are one of the elders in our neighborhood, you might be able to shed some light on it. I understand you have lived here all your life and that you were in service at Netherfield before you married Mr. Pearson.”

“Indeed I was. I went to Netherfield when I was twelve years old, which would have been in the year of thirty-nine. Started out as a scullery maid, I did. And I worked myself up to parlor maid. I left there when I married my Jem, and he brought me to this very farm. Let me see. We married in the spring of forty-eight, same year as young Mr. Devereaux married his wife. She was a lady from the North.” Mrs. Pearson stopped, lost in thought. “I can’t seem to recall her name. She was a lovely young lady, much like yourself Mrs. Bingley. A young and beautiful bride. And Mr. Ned—he loved her dearly, and so did his parents. They were happy, and so were my Jem and me. It were the springtime of life for all of us.”

After a long pause, Jane looked over and saw that tears were flowing down the wrinkled old cheeks and that Mrs. Pearson’s eyes were closed. She pressed the wrinkled old hand that still held hers, laid it gently on the coverlet, and stood. “Rest now, dear Mrs. Pearson. Thank you for sharing your memories with me.” But the old woman gave no sign of having heard.

When the three women had returned to the parlor, Mrs. Thompson offered refreshments, and Jane accepted. “Let us sit in the kitchen, if you don’t mind, Mrs. Bingley. That way we can speak freely without fear of waking Mother.” They were soon settled around the table in the large, comfortable kitchen as a young daughter brought tea and slices of new bread, thickly buttered. “I am sure my sister has told you that Mother has her good spells and her bad,” began Mrs. Thompson.

“I hope I did not distress her too greatly.”

“Please, Mrs. Bingley. Do not worry yourself about that. Sometimes she weeps just remembering them as has gone before. But most times she is as merry as a little bird.”

The talk then turned to the new master of Longbourn. There was great curiosity among the tenants as to what manner of man he might be and what manner of landlord.

Jane answered thoughtfully. “He is a clergyman, and he has his living in the village of Hunsford, in Kent. His patroness is the widow of a great landowner in those parts. He is certainly—he is certainly very knowledgeable in terms of the Scriptures, though I do not believe he has any experience in managing an estate.” She took a sip of her tea, anxious to convey the right impression. “As you all know, he was married in November a year ago to Miss Lucas, daughter of Sir William who is well known to everyone in the neighborhood. She is a notable housewife, well liked among her husband’s parishioners. My sister visited them last spring, and I believe Mrs. Collins will prove to be an excellent helpmeet to her husband as he assumes his new responsibilities.”

“That is a mercy,” replied Mrs. Thompson. “Your honored father’s death was so unexpected. Everyone mourns his passing.”

“I thank you,” replied Jane. She stood. “I believe we should be getting back to Netherfield, Mrs. Thompson. Thank you for the tea and for allowing me to speak with your mother.”

Mrs. Thompson curtsied. “Thank you for honoring us with a visit and for the lovely things you have brought for Mother. There is a good chance that when she feels better, she will be inclined to talk more of her recollections. If so, I will send word to my sister immediately so that you can come to speak with Mother again if you wish.”

“That is very kind of you, Mrs. Thompson.”

Mrs. Thompson saw them to the door and watched as they entered the carriage to begin the short drive back to Netherfield.

XXX

Jane and Darcy were the joint centers of attention at the family dinner that evening at Longbourn. Each had a mystery to relate, they had not spoken to each other, and their audience was spellbound. When each had concluded their story of the day’s events and discoveries, the group began a lively discussion of whether Mrs. Pearson’s memories were in any way related to the grave at Rose Cottage.

“She would be the right age to be a daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Ned Devereaux,” began Elizabeth. “I presume the Ned is short for Edward. “If so, I wonder if she was the only child. And having been buried with her infant, we might assume she was married.”

“Yes,” Bingley interjected. “But I must say it is an unusual tombstone. Do they not usually say, ‘Beloved wife of Thus-and-So?’ and ‘Infant son of Thus-and-So?’ Someone obviously cared enough for the mother and babe to have commissioned the stone and to have made such a careful burial—”

“She was not buried in holy ground,” added Mary with an air of disapproval. “She must have been guilty of some terrible sin.”

“Yes, but why was she not buried in consecrated ground?” Mrs. Bennet ignored her daughter and sniffed disapprovingly. “Even criminals and suicides are granted a spot near the north wall of the churchyard.” She shuddered. “We do not follow the old, barbaric practices here. And yet there she is in our vegetable garden.”

Darcy laid down his fork. “This brings up a question, Mrs. Bennet. Do you recall any churches in the area of Netherfield in the past? The grave is new enough that it seems unlikely, and the gardeners and builders have found no evidence of any old ruins. None of the older workers can recall anything like a church in that area.”

“They are right, Mr. Darcy. There has not been a church in the vicinity of Netherfield in my memory, and I would wager not in the memory of my parents. The church and the small village here at Longbourn pre-date the village of Meryton by at least two hundred years, and probably more. I was always told that it dates back to the time of the Papists. Both the church and the village sprung up to support Longbourn. Although it is smaller, it is much older than either Netherfield or Meryton. Meryton was built later because its location on that side of the river, and nearer to the London road, makes it much more convenient. All of this was told to me by Mr. Bennet at various times. This estate has been in his family for many generations, since the first Bennet came over to England with the Conqueror. Tis a very old family, sir.”

“As old as the Darcys,” he said, speaking almost to himself.

Elizabeth asked the question that all had been considering. “So, Jane, do you and Mr. Darcy see any connection between your two mysteries?”

“I do not know, Lizzy. It is quite a coincidence that the times fit so well together. Perhaps it is more than a coincidence. I believe we must continue with open minds while being careful not to make too many assumptions.”

“Well said, Mrs. Bingley.” Darcy turned to Charles. “Do you remember the Christian name of the Mr. Devereaux who sold you the property?”

“I do not. In fact, I never met him. My solicitor in London handled most of the transaction, and Mrs. Bennet’s brother Mr. Phillips assisted us with the details in Meryton. I am certain the names are in documents in my safe, and perhaps Mr. Phillips has met the man.”

Jane spoke up again. “I should add that Mrs. Pearson’s daughter said that she might feel more inclined to give further details later. Her memory is very sharp, but her recollections today evoked a great deal of sadness. It is only natural. Mrs. Nicholls will tell me if and when we might return to the farm.”

With that, Mrs. Bennet rose, and the entire party retired to the drawing-room. No one seemed inclined to get up a game of cards. Even Kitty and Lydia had been fascinated by the conversation at dinner. It turned to the progress made thus far on the cottage and plans for the immediate future.

When tea was brought in, Elizabeth was pressed into service to pour. Although he did not quite smile, when Darcy came to get his cup, she noticed that his handsome features had relaxed and lost that disapproving air. “Tell me, Miss Bennet. Do you plan to walk out tomorrow morning?”

“Yes, I do, Mr. Darcy. Unless the weather turns dreadful, I will be out and about at my usual ungodly hour.”

“Perhaps Sirdar and I will see you. He looks for you, you know. If he does not see you he becomes rather disconcerted.”

Elizabeth gave him one of her melting smiles. “Please tell him, in the language of his people, that I regard him as a good friend. I will be certain I have an apple for him tomorrow morning.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disaster!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very much enjoying all the lovely comments and feel as though I am slipping back into the story again.

Elizabeth slept well that night. Her last thoughts before sleep were of the brief conversation with Darcy as she handed him his tea. She summoned up his easygoing, slightly teasing manner, his warm smile, and what seemed to be his hope of seeing her in the morning. She reminded herself to select a particularly good apple for Sirdar, and then she turned over and drifted into a peaceful slumber.

She awoke early the next morning feeling relaxed and contented—perhaps more so than she had since the loss of her father. She sprang from bed, washed and dressed quickly, and was soon selecting three apples—one for Sirdar, one for Darcy, and one for herself—from the winter stores on offer in the kitchen. With a wave to the cook, she was out into the chilly morning air, relishing the bright sunshine.

A glance at the sky told her that she was somewhat early to meet Darcy, and she decided that a brief run was in order. As she gained the drive in the front of the house she broke into the easy lope that could carry her for a mile or more without fatigue. She relished the action, the feeling of warmth that pervaded her as her muscles stretched and loosened. Idly she thought that perhaps she should have been born a male.

Disaster struck after she had turned onto the lane and run about halfway to the place where they regularly saw each other. A stone somewhat larger than a man’s fist had been exposed, probably due to winter’s upheavals. Her foot, shod in sturdy jean half-boots, contacted the stone at an angle. She felt it roll beneath her as her ankle gave way, and she instantly found herself in an undignified heap upon the ground. The wind had been knocked out of her by the fall, and she felt she might have lost consciousness for a moment. That feeling was confirmed when she focused on her bonnet lying a few feet away and felt the stickiness of blood from a cut or graze at the side of her head. Her ankle throbbed, and her muscles—which had earlier been warming satisfactorily—felt painful and sore.

She abandoned the idea of getting up and lay on the uncomfortable stones, seething with annoyance and impatience. She would miss her encounter with Mr. Darcy. He in turn would think her appallingly rude and would doubtless continue his ride. She, on the other hand, would lie there like an unfortunate turtle, unable to rise, and utterly dependent for succor on the next passerby. And who knew when anyone would choose to pass by on such a chilly morning. She gritted her teeth only to find that it made her head feel worse. She had just thrown away what would probably be her last chance for a warm and friendly conversation with the man who was somehow edging himself ever more deeply into her heart. There, she had admitted it. She balled her fists pugnaciously as if daring some unknown opponent to argue with her. Her hair had come loose from its pins, and loops of it fell annoyingly over her face. She shook her head angrily and was assailed by a new wave of pain from her head.

In the meantime, Mr. Darcy and Sirdar had arrived at the meeting point. Both man and beast looked expectantly up the lane for a sight of the woman they both adored. Sirdar’s affections were quite simple. She never failed to bring him a tasty apple or carrot, she spoke in soft and soothing tones that did not set his nerves on edge, and she knew all the best places to pet him without being asked. She also stood where he could see her, a fact he appreciated. His aspirations extended only so far as another agreeable encounter, another tasty tidbit, and further soothing attentions to his head and neck. He also realized, somewhat dimly, that should he ever find her mounted on his back, he would be more than happy to carry her safely to the ends of the earth or wherever else she might wish to go.

As we have seen, the man’s affections and wishes were far more complex and extensive. He resolutely pushed gloom aside, refusing to believe that she had deliberately avoided him. Her warm smile the evening before had been as good as a promise, had it not? She had most likely been detained at home and was even now walking briskly to meet him.

Darcy and his horse did not tarry long. He resolved to ride ahead to meet her, fully expecting to encounter her on the lane. They proceeded at an easy pace with that idea in mind. He was, therefore, quite startled to discover her lying in a small, dazed huddle by the side of the road. He surmised immediately that she was still alive because she was quivering, though whether that was due to pain or anger he could not tell. He was kneeling by her side in an instant. Sirdar, anxious at the sight of his good friend lying on the ground, nudged her with his nose as though urging her to stand up.

“Miss Bennet! What has happened? No, do not try to speak.” As the survivor of, or witness to, many country accidents, he assessed her injuries quickly. “Can you turn your head?” He saw the trickle of blood on her forehead with a hiss of indrawn breath and moved to wipe the blood away with his handkerchief, noting that it still flowed freely. “Can you move your arms? Good. Your legs? Very good.” He peered into her eyes and found only annoyance there. “I am going to assist you to move into a more comfortable position.”

Placing an arm around her shoulder, he did just that, helping her to straighten her body so that she was lying more comfortably flat on her back. He folded the drab Benjamin he wore against the chill and placed it beneath her head, noting that she winced in pain when he moved her. “I see you have injured your head,” he said finally. “Where else are you hurt? How did it happen?”

“My ankle,” she finally managed between clenched teeth. “I set my foot on a large stone, and it gave way beneath me. It hurts dreadfully, and I seem to have hit my head.” She paused for a moment and closed her eyes. “Nothing else seems to hurt. Only my pride,” she finished with a rueful flash of her usual good humor.

“I am glad to hear you say it. May I examine your ankle? Which one is it?” He knew it was a well-turned and attractive ankle, for he had glimpsed it several times and found much to admire. However this morning, his only concern was for her well-being.”

“The right.”

“I shall endeavor not to cause you too much pain.” He placed her hand over the handkerchief on her brow, then moved her skirt cautiously aside, raising it only far enough to survey the damage. He could see the swelling beneath the sturdy orange jean fabric of the boot, extending to the area just above it. “Can you move your foot at all, Miss Bennet?”

She responded by gritting her teeth and moving the appendage left to right, then back and forth. “Yes, but it hurts.”

“Do not try any further, then.” He carefully and delicately moved the hem of her skirt back down until her ankle was suitably covered before rocking back on his heels. “Rest for a moment and gather your strength, Miss Bennet. I do not believe your injuries are grave, but the apothecary will certainly make an assessment once you are safely returned to Longbourn. We will leave your boot in place on your foot for now. While I know it is uncomfortable, it is also preventing the ankle from swelling too much, and this will assist the apothecary in his evaluation of the injury. The injury to your head, while it appears alarming, does not appear to be too serious. Cuts and abrasions to the head and scalp always bleed freely.”

He regarded her with what she was now calling “That Look,” but it appeared to her this morning as anxiety and concern.

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy. You have certainly been my Good Samaritan this morning. I had been on my way to meet you and Sirdar.” She managed a weak smile. “We must see that he receives his treat when I can get to my pocket.” The horse, hearing his name, returned from his anxious vantage point a few yards away and nuzzled at her with his velvet nose. She reached up and petted it—not his favorite spot, but he seemed to understand that she could do nothing else.

After a few minutes of quiet which were not entirely awkward, Darcy said, “Do you think you could sit up, Miss Bennet? I will assist you.” At her nod, he supported her shoulders and helped her to a seated position, keeping his arm where it was.

“Oh! My head does ache.”

“Any feelings of nausea or dizziness, Miss Bennet?”

“No, sir. Just a headache.”

“Rest, then. We have plenty of time.” He continued to support her with his arm, all the while wishing he could pull her closer to rest on his shoulder.

Elizabeth, meanwhile, was compelled to admit to herself how much she would like to be leaning on his shoulder. She could feel his warmth and solid strength through her cloak and his jacket. She allowed a small sigh to escape.

“Elizabeth—Miss Bennet—are you well?” His dark eyes, full of worry, searched her face, and his arm tightened around her slightly.

“Yes, sir. I thank you.” She managed a smile, watching his anxiety relax slightly. “I confess I find myself feeling very stupid. It was a ridiculous accident.”

“I disagree. The same accident might have befallen anyone.” It took all the force of his will to resist pulling her closer. They rested in a companionable silence for a few more minutes, and he finally said, “Do you feel ready for me to escort you home, Miss Bennet?”

“How will we accomplish that? I do not believe I can walk.”

“Sirdar and I will have the honor of assisting you. I know he is very tall, but you have seen for yourself his admiration and regard for you. He will carry you safely. You need not attempt to ride conventionally. Sit on his back as if it were a bench in your garden and hold fast to the edge of the pommel with your hand. Do you feel able to do that?”

“I believe so, sir. Would you be so good as to retrieve my bonnet? I am afraid it was a casualty of the fall.” She pointed it out.  
“Certainly, madam.” He brought it back immediately. “If I might suggest, we will tie the strings so that you may carry it over your wrist. I do not believe you should attempt to wear it. Now, do you feel strong enough to put your arms around my neck?”

Elizabeth did so. Darcy quickly picked up his Benjamin, settled it around her shoulders, and whistled quietly for his horse. Sirdar approached immediately, gave a quiet “whuff” that communicated concern, and stood like an equestrian statue awaiting his rider. “Mind your manners, Sirdar, there’s a good fellow,” said Darcy quietly as he lifted Elizabeth up onto the saddle. He took Elizabeth’s hand and showed her where she might grasp the pommel. Then, looping the bonnet around her wrist, he took her other hand and showed her where to grasp the cantle for good measure. “Are you comfortable, Miss Bennet?” He placed his hand lightly at her waist.

Elizabeth smiled with some of her usual good humor. “Yes, Mr. Darcy. This is not too different from sitting on a bench, just as you said.”

“Do you feel able to start? We should be at your home in a few minutes. I would prefer to walk at Sirdar’s head to guide him, but I can walk here if you wish.”

“I feel perfectly safe, sir.” And to her surprise, Elizabeth found that she did.

They made their slow, careful way back down the lane, eventually turning into the drive. Their approach to the house was so slow and quiet that only Lydia spied them from an upstairs window. She rushed into the corridor and down the stairs calling that Lizzy was hurt and for someone to open the front door. Darcy, meanwhile, pulled the reins over Sirdar’s head, got Elizabeth settled in his arms, and began carrying her quickly and carefully to the house. All the Bennets had gathered in the front hall as he carried her in. “Get someone to hold my horse,” he told Hill. “I will need him to ride to the apothecary.” He turned to Mrs. Bennet, who as yet had expressed no concern for her daughter. “Miss Bennet has had a fall. Her ankle is injured. Allow me to carry her to her chamber. She should not place any weight upon it until the apothecary has seen her.” He was secretly resolved to summon a decent surgeon from London if the apothecary’s report was unsatisfactory.

But Mrs. Bennet, true to form, had collapsed into a chair as soon as she caught sight of the blood on Elizabeth’s face. “Oh, Lizzy!” she screamed. “She has killed herself. She has injured her head! Whatever shall I do without her? Hill! Hill! Bring my smelling salts.”

Elizabeth, at the point of tears, drooped visibly and brazenly laid her head on Darcy’s shoulder. He wanted dreadfully to comfort her. Instead, in the midst of the shouting and chaos, he said quietly. “Do not worry, Miss Bennet. You will be made comfortable in a few moments. I shall not leave here until I see you are quietly settled—and I shall close the door behind me.” He tightened his arms about her imperceptibly and felt her give a little sigh.

Mary Bennet stepped to the center of the fray, her mouth set in a thin, disapproving line. “Lydia, Kitty, see to our mother. Fetch her smelling salts, and when she has calmed herself, take her to her room and assist her into bed. Hill, please follow us to my sister’s bedchamber. Mr. Darcy, if you will be good enough to follow me with Elizabeth, I shall conduct you there immediately.”

Darcy nodded and followed Mary upstairs, turning down a narrow corridor. She opened a door at the end of it and stood aside so he could enter. He had never expected to see this room, and his eyes took it in at a glance. He saw two narrow beds covered with white counterpanes, separated by a small night stand. There was a cushioned window seat with several embroidered pillows, a dressing-table with mirror, a tall bureau, and off to one side a bookcase and slender escritoire. Mary indicated the bed nearest the door, and he laid Elizabeth carefully down on it. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” she murmured.

“Miss Mary, I strongly suggest that Miss Bennet’s half-boot not be removed until the apothecary is ready to inspect the injury. However, she may be made as comfortable as possible otherwise. Elevating her foot by means of cushions or pillows may afford some relief, and there should be no harm at all in assisting her to wash her face. The wound has bled profusely and may continue to do so, however it is in the scalp, and that is an area that tends to bleed alarmingly when injured.” He turned to Hill. “Mrs. Hill, I suspect the apothecary will call for plenty of linen bandages, and he may suggest that ice be applied to the injury.” Turning back to Mary, he bowed gravely. “I shall fetch the apothecary immediately.”

As he turned to go, he looked down at Elizabeth. “Miss Bennet, please accept my good wishes for your complete recovery. I shall do myself the honor of calling on your mother or your sisters tomorrow to inquire after your health.”

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy.”

With another bow, he left the room and closed the door quietly but firmly behind him. He could hear Mrs. Bennet’s caterwauling from the other end of the corridor, but he paid her no mind, found his way downstairs, and left the house.

 


	14. Smiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smiles are evaluated. Mr. Emerson arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank each and every Gentle Reader who has stuck with me through all of this. One more operation, a very easy one, will do the trick and will take place tomorrow. I have three chapters completed ahead of time, so there should not be any more vast gaps. 
> 
> I wish I could personally thank everyone who has left feedback, messages, kind words--all are sincerely and deeply appreciated.

Elizabeth did not see Darcy when he returned with the apothecary, although he remained downstairs awaiting an opportunity to converse with the man when he had finished his examination. He was somewhat concerned about the propriety of his interest in the health of a young lady so wholly unrelated to him, but he decided that the fact that he could report in full to her sister, Mrs. Bingley, outweighed any concern. He was, after all, on an extended visit to the Bingleys. Mr. Burnham, the apothecary, impressed Darcy as an experienced, capable man. Elizabeth’s ankle was sprained. It had been bound, more for her comfort than anything else, and a soothing poultice had been applied. The wound to her head was slight, and there was no indication of any serious damage. She had been ordered to rest for the remainder of the day. Beginning the next day, she could come downstairs provided one of the menservants carried her and provided she kept the injured appendage elevated. Mr. Burnham had also recommended applying ice for twenty-four hours to soothe the injury and prevent too much swelling, and he would return early in the week to see her. 

Darcy, satisfied, assured Miss Mary that he would inform Mrs. Bingley. She thanked him gravely; then, having seen a look in his eyes that expressed friendly concern, she lost some of her reserve and went on. “Hill is an excellent nurse, but we will be spread very thin with having to look after my mother.” She allowed herself a small sigh. “This is her normal reaction to any crisis or e mergency. Lizzy deserves and needs our care, but my mother must and shall have her share.” She paused for a moment, and her shoulders stooped. “My apologies,” she went on with a small, tight smile. “I should not have burdened you with our troubles. You have been more than helpful this morning.” 

“I understand completely, Miss Mary. I will inform Mrs. Bingley of all the particulars regarding the, ah, the situation here at Longbourn. I am certain she will want to assist you.” 

With another grave bow, Darcy left the house, finding that Sirdar had been rubbed down and baited after the morning’s exertions. He rode slowly back to Netherfield. It was just past midday, and he had a great deal to think about. James Emerson, the former steward of Elmwood, would be arriving at mid-day on the morrow for a three-day visit and interview. Darcy had great hopes of the man. Unlike the hapless young Earl, Bingley was open and amenable to instruction, intelligent, and eager to make a success of his estate. He and Darcy had agreed that they would conduct the interview jointly and that they would ride over the estate with him together and individually by turns. Darcy had formulated a list of points for discussion, but he needed to spend some time committing them to paper. 

He allowed his thoughts to return to the morning’s adventure—or misadventure. He had been genuinely alarmed at finding Elizabeth injured, and it had taken some mental fortitude to remain calm, to assess the situation properly, and to minister to her needs. While he congratulated himself for having done all for the best, he knew that he had wanted only to snatch her up into his arms, hold her close, and kiss the hurt on her forehead the way a parent kisses a hurt child. That indefinable scent of garden flowers and herbs that clung to her had imprinted itself on his mind so that he could call it up at will. He thought perhaps he had clasped her a little too tightly as he carried her, but she had not seemed to object. In fact, he thought—oh, yes, he thought—that she might have returned the embrace once or twice and that she had laid her head upon his shoulder at least once. He sighed. He should probably not make too much of it. Her mother had sent up that hue and cry, enough to wake the dead, and Elizabeth had been suffering. At least he had been there to provide some small measure of comfort. He squared his shoulders. Her sister Jane would provide still more. At the turnoff to Netherfield, he urged Sirdar into a brisk trot. 

Elizabeth, for her part, slept for several hours after the sleeping draught administered by Mr. Burnham. She awoke with only a slight headache, although her ankle still throbbed. She looked over to see her sister Jane seated by the window with the slanting rays shining through fair hair covered by a soft lace cap. Elizabeth laughed. “Mr. Bingley is right, Jane. You do look like an angel. And I am so very happy to see you.” 

Jane was immediately at her bedside. “Lizzy, how are you feeling? Do not try to talk too much, dearest.” 

“I feel better for having slept. My headache is all but gone, though my ankle still throbs. One thing is certain, I could eat anything set in front of me. I had not breakfasted when I had this—this disaster.” 

“I will bring you a tray. It will not take but a few minutes.” 

“But where is Hill? Where is Susan? Oh, I remember.” 

“Yes, Mama is behaving in her usual fashion. She must have her share in any disaster in the house, no matter whose. Hill and Susan are occupied with her at the moment. Truly, it is no trouble, and I will be right back.” 

True to her word, Jane was back quickly with a laden supper tray. She helped Elizabeth to sit on the side of the bed and to elevate her ankle on a footstool before pulling a small table over for the tray. “Mr. Burnham said you might eat whatever you wished, so I have piled your tray high.” 

Jane smiled as Elizabeth’s only response was an “Mmm” just before she applied herself to the soup. When Elizabeth had enjoyed several bites she smiled back at her sister. “Jane, it was so good of you to come. Is Charles sending a carriage for you?” 

“You will not be rid of me quite so easily, dear. I intend to stay the night here. I hope you will not mind giving up your newfound privacy for one night.” 

“Jane, you should not have to be away from your new husband just because our mother has decided to grace us with one of her performances! I believe I will be well enough to go downstairs tomorrow with some help. In fact, I could probably go there now. I am feeling much better.” 

“You stay where you are. " Once Elizabeth had finished her dinner, Jane took the tray away. Searching beneath a particular pillow, she located a book and pulled it out. "Is this what you are currently reading, Lizzie?" At Elizabeth's nod, Jane pulled her chair nearer to the bed, opened the book, and began to read. It was not long before Elizabeth sighed, settled her cheek on her hand, and drifted into a deep, restorative slumber. 

### 

Darcy and Bingley, cast adrift for one night, sat comfortably in Netherfield's sparse library enjoying their brandy. A fire warded off the chill which still gathered most nights. "You really must do something about this library, Bingley. It is a disgrace." Darcy surveyed the barren shelves. "Whatever happened to all the books?" 

"Mr. Deveraux took them away long ago, and I have no idea what became of them. They were his books after all."   
Bingley regarded his friend with his usual good humor. "Excellent, Darcy. I have heard you say many times that building a family library is the work of generations. I propose that we get right to it. After we renovate the cottage and see the ladies settled in it, fend off the militia should they ever descend, solve the mystery of the lost mother and child, hire a proper steward, get him started on the work of building up the property, entertain the Hursts and Caroline, and oh—by the way—Jane and I might want to get away by ourselves for a day or two." He waved his arm. "But all of that will be accomplished in the twinkling of an eye. Then we can get down to the real work of improving the library." 

Darcy's laughter rumbled as he refilled their glasses. "You know, your excellent wife is correct, Bingley. You are a good man. Let us see if we can entice this paragon among stewards to take an interest in Netherfield. That will solve one of the larger problems. I am ready with my questions, but I have one for you: Where are you going to put him?" 

"Well, in one of the guest suites. Ah, you must mean where will he live. There is a cottage, somewhat smaller than Rose Cottage, and in much better repair. It has a comfortable office attached to it. He may live there or he may live in the house. Either way, I am prepared to accommodate him. Let us hope he likes the place." Bingley thought for a few moments. "How do I get round the fact that he is a gentleman? More of a gentleman than I am, when it comes to that. He is the younger son of a baronet." 

"I do not believe you need to be too concerned," replied Darcy. "He will know how to comport himself. He should certainly dine with us while he is visiting, and it is proper for him to be accommodated in the guest wing." 

"Jane is expecting to feed him tomorrow evening. She will be ready. I wonder how Elizabeth is getting on this evening." 

"From what I know of Miss Bennet, your bride will have a problem seeing to her rest. She will want to be up and about. I do not believe the injuries are serious." 

"But they certainly gave you a turn, Darcy. You should have seen your face when you rode up." 

Darcy chose not to respond, and the two friends poured a final tot of brandy and watched the fire burn down. 

### 

Darcy was awake and dressed early the next morning. It had been agreed between the two friends before they retired that he would call at Longbourn to inquire after Miss Bennet's health while Bingley stayed behind to undertake the final preparations for Mr. Emerson's visit. Darcy would inquire of Jane when the carriage should be sent to bring her home. He consulted his watch with some impatience; the farthing made a pleasant sound as it struck the fine gold of the chain. He knew that the family normally breakfasted at ten, and at ten precisely he ordered that Sirdar be brought around and rode thoughtfully off. 

He found Elizabeth tucked up on the sofa in the back parlor, snug beneath a large shawl. She looked almost like her usual self, and Jane and Mary sat with her. "I am come to inquire after your health, Miss Bennet," he said, and his voice sounded stiff and formal in his own ears. “It is a—a pleasant surprise to find that you are sufficiently recovered to come downstairs.” 

"Thank you, sir. I am much improved this morning. A good night's sleep has driven away my headache, and while my ankle still aches, it does not throb as it did yesterday. I am deeply grateful to you for rescuing me." She smiled. "Were it not for you, I might still be lying out there by the side of the lane like a poor, upended turtle." 

Darcy smiled, and she noticed that the smile reached all the way to his eyes. "It was an honor to be of service, Miss Bennet." A somewhat awkward pause ensued. "And Mrs. Bennet? How is she?" 

Mary rolled her eyes in what might or might not have been a flash of good humor. "She is still in bed, sir, and is still in her usual state. Lydia and Catherine are with her. I must say, this has allowed Elizabeth to recuperate in the presence of the quieter members of the family.” This time she did smile briefly. “Perhaps in that sense, since my mother is not seriously ill, it has been a good thing.” 

“Mary! I am shocked, indeed I am.” Elizabeth affected a mock-scandalized tone. “Are you implying that our mother and sisters are—are noisy?” 

“Believe what you will, dear sister. I am not the one lying there with her ankle swollen to three times its size.” And Mary truly did astonish them all into hearty laughter by giving her sister a broad wink. 

When they had recovered enough to be able to speak, Darcy took up the conversation. Determined to preserve the congenial mood, he began. “My dear Mrs. Bingley, your devoted husband is wasting away alone at Netherfield. He begs me to inquire when he may send the carriage that shall once again make him the happiest man in the world.” Darcy paused, and with perfect timing added, “Oh. And we are expecting Mr. Emerson for dinner.” 

Jane’s blue eyes flew open momentarily as she was startled by his serious tone. Then she, too, laughed heartily. “Sir, you may tell my dear husband that I shall be ready to fly to his waiting arms at mid-afternoon. Let us say about two. That should give me ample time to kill and cook the fatted calf, make all things ready for the feast, and adorn myself in a manner suited to my exalted station.” She looked down demurely and made a few stitches in her needlework. Her sisters laughed uproariously, for Jane was the most literal-minded of all of them and scarcely ever made a jest. Hill, bringing in the tea-tray, was pleased to find them all so merry. Darcy ventured a shy smile at Elizabeth and was completely dazzled by the brilliance of the smile she bestowed upon him in return. 

Jane and Mary chatted on, but Elizabeth and Darcy grew quiet. Each was privately evaluating the smile bestowed by the other. Elizabeth, who had memorized Darcy’s smile, began to consider it in light of all the previous disapproving looks. She realized that his looks yesterday after the accident had not conveyed disapproval but rather worry and concern. Had she been wrong about his demeanor during their previous encounters? She suddenly recalled a conversation at Rosings the previous spring when he had said, “I am ill qualified to recommend myself to strangers.” Could it be possible that he was not cold and aloof, but shy? Shyness is an affliction but poorly understood by those who do not suffer from it. And she knew herself to be sociable and at ease in company. 

Darcy’s mind was certainly agreeably engaged, though his thoughts were much less well-ordered. How had he managed to capture such a radiant smile from her? Her gaze on him had been so warm, her eyes so bright, her smile so—he knew not what. He only knew that her smile seemed to be for him, and him alone. He recalled the first evening he had seen her at that disastrous assembly in Meryton. He had dismissively urged Bingley to return to his partner and enjoy her smiles. He had not known until this very moment what it truly meant to enjoy a woman’s smiles. Darcy was not a jovial man, but he delighted in times of quiet enjoyment with family and good friends. Perhaps he had allowed his natural reserve to build a wall between him and this woman he had come to love so dearly. 

He reasoned that there was no time like the present and raised his eyes—just at the moment Elizabeth raised hers. This resulted in another exchange of smiles between the two of them. Before either could say a word, Hill entered the room. “Mrs. Bingley, Mrs. Bennet is asking to see you upstairs.” Jane stood and followed her out of the room. Darcy turned to Mary and Elizabeth and said, “I had best be going too. We have high hopes of Mr. Emerson’s becoming steward at Netherfield. It is important for me to be there when he arrives.” 

“Let me just ask Mr. Hill to have your horse brought round, Mr. Darcy.” With a look at the two remaining, Mary left the room, being certain to leave the door open a little distance. 

“Thank you again, sir. You were either my Good Samaritan or my knight in shining armor. Whichever it was, I should have been in great distress without you.” This time the smiles came more easily. 

Darcy bowed over her hand. “I shall be very much occupied with Mr. Emerson until Wednesday. May I stop in after church tomorrow to inquire after your mother’s health—and yours?” 

“Of course. I am only sorry we shall not be able to invite you to stay to dinner.” 

“Another time, perhaps.” This time, the smile he gave her had a certain air of hope that there would be a next time. He bowed again, went out to his horse, and rode thoughtfully back to Netherfield. 

When he arrived, it was to find Mr. Emerson comfortably ensconced with Bingley in the study. The man who unfolded himself from his chair to greet Darcy was astonishingly tall and broad-shouldered, topping Darcy himself by at least three inches. He had red hair, fading to gray, blue eyes, and a complexion that spoke of long days spent outdoors. His clothing, though obviously well-made, was old-fashioned, and he wore his hair tied at the back into a club, a style twenty years out of vogue. Though obviously a gentleman, there was certainly nothing of the dandy about him at all. 

Darcy liked him on sight—unusual for him. He helped himself to sandwiches from the laden tray and poured himself a tankard of ale from the foaming pitcher that had been set out for them and settled back to listen as Bingley spoke. 

“I was just explaining to Mr. Emerson the situation at Longbourn including the fact that my mother-in-law and four of her daughters will be moving into Rose Cottage. The extra dependents make it doubly important for me to succeed at placing Netherfield on a paying basis.” 

“Mr. Darcy, your estate is Pemberley, in Derbyshire, is it not?” Emerson’s voice was deep, but not loud. 

“Yes, sir. I have the honor to be entrusted with Pemberley.” 

“I have been there once or twice. Our fathers knew each other, though not well. You may still have been in the nursery, sir. I remember particularly the care and pride he took in the estate and the high regard of his tenants and servants. I also remember your honored mother, who offered us a warm welcome. It seems you are following along in your father’s footsteps.” 

“Thank you, sir. I am making every effort to do so.” 

When they had finished their luncheon and drunk the last of the ale, Mr. Emerson suggested a tour of the property on horseback. It was shortly after noon, the day was fine, and the other two gentlemen readily assented. “Tis just to get an overview of the extent of the property, the condition of the land, and so on. It will not come alive to me until I have seen it all with my own eyes.” Darcy found himself more and more approving of Mr. Emerson’s plain manners and sound ideas. 

“Bingley, I am directed to ask you to send a carriage for Mrs. Bingley at two o’clock. She will be waiting.” 

“It shall be done.” 

The three gentlemen managed to visit, however briefly, all of the various areas of Bingley’s property. They saw the rich bottom land, now mostly fallow; the pastures, which also stood largely empty; and the farm cottages and outbuildings, which were in disrepair but not completely run down. Mr. Emerson took everything in, asking few questions. Their return to the house took them past Rose Cottage, where the workmen were busy with the roof, the two young boys were turning over a different area of the back garden, and the gardeners were pruning the roses. “This is Rose Cottage, sir. It will serve as home to my wife’s mother and sisters when work on it is complete.” 

“Very wise of you, I am sure. What are those two boys working on at the back of the house?” 

Darcy replied. “I have brought in my own head-gardener and his assistant to work on the landscaping. Hobbs believes that the soil at the back of the house can be amended so that a useful kitchen-garden may be planted there, serving the needs of the household. Those lads are turning over the soil to the depth of about a foot. We were somewhat hampered by the fact that there appears to have been a burial back there. Their initial efforts have had to be relocated until we decide what is to be done.” 

The gentlemen returned to the house, where Jane had tea ready for them. They enjoyed a pleasant conversation until it was time to dress for dinner. When Jane and Bingley retired to their rooms to dress, Jane mentioned that her throat was very slightly scratchy. “Nothing to be concerned about, dearest. I was up quite late after Lizzy fell asleep last night. Mama was her usual overdramatic self, and Kitty and Lydia had been with her all day. I shall be fine.” 

Bingley, though worried, knew better than to argue with his new bride. Her maid, Brinklow, had no such compunction, and Jane was put to bed with a hot-water bottle and a tray with hot broth and ginger tea. She begged Bingley to make her apologies to her guests, and he promised to do so. 

The gentlemen, having desired Bingley to convey their regards to his lady at the first opportunity, settled in to dine in bachelor splendor. The talk turned to Jane’s desire for not one, but two herb gardens. “She wishes to plant an ornamental knot-garden, small in scale, at the side of the house. She also wishes to have a much larger, utilitarian plot in the back with the vegetable garden.” 

“She is a very wise lady,” replied Emerson. “I do not doubt she will reserve the knot-garden for fragrant plants or whatever ornamentals suit a lady’s fancy, while she plants medicinal and culinary herbs at the back of the house. Not really my area of expertise, but it is a very practical way of growing whatever she desires or requires.” 

“It is my belief that Mrs. Bingley takes after her mother in this,” added Darcy. “All of the Bennet ladies, at least the mother and the elder sisters, seem to have a natural talent for gardening and horticulture. Mrs. Bennet astonished my man Hobbs with her fund of knowledge on the subject. I believe she would seize a shovel or pruning-shears and set to work herself were it not for her notions that the neighbors would frown on such activity.” 

“Very commendable,” replied Emerson. “I shall look forward to meeting these Bennet ladies in person.” 

After the table had been cleared and the cigars and brandy had been brought in, the talk turned to Netherfield and Charles Bingley’s hopes and ambitions for the property. Darcy observed, but did not comment on, the fact that James Emerson was actually interviewing Bingley rather than the other way around. Darcy had gravitated to the older man instinctively, watching him closely as he observed and commented on the land, its potential, and its shortcomings. Bingley, as pleasant and unassuming as he was, was frequently heard to say that his late father had been a tradesman. That was true as far as it went, but in reality, the elder Bingley had built a substantial textile industry in Yorkshire. His ambition had been to leave his only son with a fortune respectable enough that he could become a gentleman. In reality, Bingley had learned a great deal about practical business matters from his father. Darcy had recognized that fact early in their friendship. It appeared to him that James Emerson had also learned the same thing about Bingley. 

Bingley sat at his ease and said, “It is regrettable in a sense that I did not have the opportunity to search for a better maintained property. I had let Netherfield over a year ago with little intention of living here for more than a year. It seemed a pleasant place to bring friends in the summer, convenient to London, and the shooting is excellent. In fact, though I know little of farming, I have formed the opinion that my sort of lease is chiefly what ails this estate. It has served for too long as a temporary country retreat for those who take no interest in it. I moved ahead with the purchase when I began to appreciate the situation in my wife’s family. Longbourn is entailed away to a distant cousin, and it was obvious that I might one day become the chief provider for my wife’s mother and sisters. It is providential that I bought the place. We had no idea how soon that prediction would come to pass.” 

Bingley poured himself another splash of brandy before continuing. “I would not change a thing as matters stand. Family ties are all-important, and Jane is the perfect wife for me. It is as if we were formed for each other. And while I may appear somewhat lackadaisical, I attended to everything my father taught me. I may know little of farming, but it seems to me that the land here is as good as any other in the neighborhood. And this place is located so near to London that just about anything one might coax out of the ground would turn a profit.” 

Emerson threw back his head and laughed. “Well said, Mr. Bingley. I have seen and heard enough that I feel safe in saying I am your man if you want me. You may not have been born a farmer, but I’ll wager you have the makings of a good one. I am willing to take this project on.”   
“Well, well, that is excellent, Mr. Emerson.” Bingley extended his hand and the older man shook it. “I shall be delighted to take you on. Though we should probably wait to discuss your compensation until we have slept off the brandy.” 

“Very wise.” Emerson grew serious. “What decided me was your discussion of your family responsibilities. The greatest disappointment of my life is to have worked side by side with the old Earl to create an estate of meaningful value—and then to watch the young Earl toss it away in just a few years. And he is gone. He never had a wife to come home to, never had chick nor child to nurture and bring up—his life was meaningless in the end. Come what may, that will not happen to you, Mr. Bingley, for you will not allow it to happen.” He raised his glass in a salute to the two men sitting with him at the table. Then he rose. “I should seek my bed, if you will excuse me, gentlemen. Tomorrow is Sunday, and I would like to attend services somewhere nearby.” 

Darcy and Bingley rose with him, and all three men took up their candles and went to their beds. Darcy was pleased as he prepared to retire. He instinctively liked James Emerson, and he believed the association would be a fruitful one for Bingley. But as he got into bed and put out his candle, it was Elizabeth’s face, and her beautiful smile, that appeared to him.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth is recovering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope my Gentle Readers will find this rewarding, as I certainly enjoyed writing it. I plan to stay one chapter ahead, so when I have Chapter 17 completed, I will post Chapter 16. 
> 
> You may find some other bits and pieces of my working being posted here--they are completed work that I am moving so that I have everything in one place. Enjoy them, and thanks to you all!

Bingley, the devoted and worried bridegroom, decided to forego Sunday services to stay at his wife’s bedside. Jane would have confessed privately to being a little annoyed by all the fuss. She felt well enough to get up, but no one would listen to her. So it was that Darcy and Mr. Emerson set off in a carriage without anyone else from Netherfield to attend Sunday services at Longbourn parish. Darcy explained to Emerson that he did not anticipate seeing much of the Bennet family due to Elizabeth’s injury and Mrs. Bennet’s resulting illness. Mr. Emerson had no objection at all to calling at Longbourn after church. In fact, he was curious about this group of ladies who would soon be his near neighbors. As they went to take their places, Darcy was surprised to see Mrs. Bennet in attendance accompanied by Lydia and Mary. 

Beyond returning their bows with an affable inclination of her head, that worthy lady paid them no attention for the duration of the service. But her inner thoughts were busy, and not particularly occupied with Higher Things. Here was Mr. Darcy, come to church without Charles and Jane, but accompanied by Mr. Emerson, the favored candidate for the position of steward at Netherfield. She knew him to be a bachelor, and she was further aware that he was the fourth son of a baronet. Perhaps he would be an eligible match for one of her girls. The matter was certainly worth pursuing, and she began to consider how she should best proceed. The final hymn and blessing caught her by surprise, and it was only Mary’s hissed “mama!” and Lydia’s suppressed giggle that brought her back to reality. She hurried from the church, barely stopping to greet the vicar and hardly sparing a nod for her sister or her many acquaintances. 

Having disposed herself, Mary, and Lydia in an attractive grouping in front of an evergreen tree, she waited. She did not wait long, however, for Mr. Darcy and the stranger emerged just a few moments later, having greeted the vicar and made their bows to half the congregation. Newcomers and visitors were always cause for comment and curiosity. Mr. Darcy saw the ladies and approached immediately. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Bennet. I am pleased to see you are looking much improved. May I present Mr. James Emerson? He will shortly join the staff at Netherfield as Mr. Bingley’s chief steward. Mr. Emerson, this is Mrs. Thomas Bennet, Mrs. Bingley’s mother, and two of her daughters, Miss Mary Bennet and Miss Lydia Bennet.” 

Once the formalities were out of the way, Mrs. Bennet started immediately. “Mr. Darcy, where are Jane and Charles? I had expected to see them both this morning.” 

“Mrs. Bingley has a very slight cold, madam, and Mr. Bingley chose to stay by her side this morning. I am assured that her recovery will be swift and uneventful. She does not suffer from any fever.” 

“My poor Jane. She is quite prone to catching colds, though they never last very long. Elizabeth is much improved. She is downstairs today, and Kitty is staying with her.” She turned to Emerson. “I have four daughters still at home, Mr. Emerson. Jane is my eldest. She and Mr. Bingley are but lately married.” Turning back to Darcy as if the idea had just struck her, she said, “You gentlemen simply must dine with us this afternoon. It will be quite informal, just the usual Sunday cold meats. My poor Lizzy will enjoy the company, and it will give Jane an opportunity to rest and get over her sniffles. Please, do join us.” 

Mary managed to communicate to Darcy a wry smile and an eye roll, while Lydia said nothing and looked bored. Mr. Emerson was ancient—why, his clothes were as old as she was. And neither of the two gentlemen was wearing a red coat. 

Darcy, seeing Emerson’s silent assent, answered for both of them. “We will be honored to join you, Mrs. Bennet. It is very kind of you to invite us. May we escort you home in the carriage?” 

“Tis but four minutes’ walk from here, Mr. Darcy. Send your carriage back to Netherfield with a message for Charles, and have them return for you at about three. We can enjoy the walk to Longbourn in this lovely sunshine.” 

The carriage was dispatched, and Mrs. Bennet accepted Mr. Emerson’s arm, leaving Darcy to escort both sisters. She immediately began extolling the virtues of her four girls—Elizabeth's intelligence and wit, Mary’s musical gifts, Kitty’s artistic accomplishments, and Lydia’s vivacity were all praised to the very heavens. Mr. Emerson had only to nod, while Darcy walked in silence, a sister on each arm.  
The walk was, indeed, of only four or five minutes’ duration, and when they reached the house, Mrs. Bennet stopped briefly to confer with Hill while Mary led the way through the front drawing-room. They eventually found Elizabeth and Kitty in the cheerful family parlor, where Elizabeth lay beneath a shawl on the sofa reading while Kitty drew at the large, round table. The latter made haste to clear away her things while Elizabeth smiled agreeably at the visitors. 

Darcy navigated them smoothly through the introductions before placing a chair near Elizabeth’s sofa. Emerson, quickly catching on, chatted most agreeably with the other young ladies. It was plain to him that Darcy and Miss Bennet might be thinking of making a match. Emerson’s impressions of the younger Bennet sisters were varied. Lydia was young, and—he thought—unattractively bold. It was clear to him that she had been brought out far too early. Catherine was older, but he thought her somewhat lacking in self-assurance. Mary, on the other hand, had some substance to her. She was obviously the least attractive of the Bennet girls until one looked closer. She had deliberately made herself plain, and the deep mourning worn by all the girls did not suit her. He found himself looking forward to getting to know her better. 

Mrs. Bennet entered in a flutter, and the talk turned to Rose Cottage. “I find myself almost looking forward to making the move,” she said. “Longbourn has been my home for many years, but there are memories everywhere I turn. And the challenge of restoring Rose Cottage to its former glory is most interesting. The garden itself could keep one pleasantly occupied for years.” She regarded Emerson with an inquiring smile. “And where will you be residing, sir?” 

“We have not yet discussed that, Mrs. Bennet. Any cottage would be fine with me, so long as it has space for an office. As a single man, my requirements are simple.” 

At this, Mrs. Bennet was silent, perhaps calculating how best to proceed. The conversation was saved from any awkwardness by the arrival of Mrs. Hill to announce that dinner was served. James, the footman, had been sent for to assist Elizabeth. 

Faint heart never won fair lady, or so Darcy reasoned, and he stood immediately. “Miss Bennet, I should be happy to assist you into the dining room.” At her amused nod, he indicated that the others should precede them, and bent down to pick up Elizabeth, taking his place at the rear of their little parade. Emerson gallantly escorted Mrs. Bennet, leaving the other three girls to take care of themselves. 

Though Darcy was the soul of propriety, Elizabeth could feel every separate, individual point where their bodies touched. A stray lock of hair had fallen over his forehead, and she longed to tuck it back into place. She wanted to tighten her arms around his neck. She wanted him to tighten his arms around her. She felt dizzy and lightheaded, and when she looked at Darcy, she thought the solemn, aloof look had returned. Then he smiled, and she realized again that she was seeing something else in his eyes. 

Mr. Emerson had pulled out her chair and was standing behind it as Darcy set her down carefully. Mary placed the footstool, and she was settled in moments. Mrs. Bennet’s seating arrangements would have appeared unusual, but they made perfect sense, for each eligible gentleman was placed between two of her daughters. Mrs. Bennet always set a good table, and even though the meal consisted of cold dishes, it was excellent. The talk turned again to Rose Cottage. 

“I expect the house will be completely under roof by the end of the week, Mrs. Bennet,” said Darcy. “Men will be put to work inside tomorrow to begin preparations for the repairs and finishing of the rooms. In fact, before we know it, it will be time for you to select the colors you require for the walls.” 

“I shall write to my sister Gardiner in London, sir. She has an excellent paint man who will send me as many samples as I wish.” 

“Are we not to have wallpaper, mama? All the finest houses do.” Lydia looked over at her mother and frowned. 

“No indeed, child. It would be completely out of keeping for a home of that nature. In fact, I shall be searching for the perfect shade of light cream for the walls. Nothing too pretentious. The woodwork will speak for itself, dear.” 

Elizabeth and Mary regarded their mother in amazement. She had never been noted for her lack of pretension. 

“And what ails you, Miss Lizzy?” asked Mrs. Bennet with some asperity. 

“Oh, nothing, Mama. I am thinking you should write to Uncle Gardiner about having those carpets properly cleaned.” 

“Indeed, you are right, child. I will write to him tomorrow.” She smiled almost beatifically. “I cannot tell you how much good it will do me to entertain Lady Lucas on silken rugs from the Orient.” 

“I must say, I am impressed with the work already accomplished in the garden, ma’am. Flower-gardens are not my area of expertise, but Mr. Darcy’s head-gardener seems to have the landscaping well in hand.” 

“Yes, we are all anxious to see his plan for the garden begin to come to life,” replied Mrs. Bennet. “Mr. Darcy, what was decided about the kitchen-garden?” 

“Hobbs’ suggestion was that we simply relocate it to the other side of the area in back. The soil, light, and drainage are the same, so it is six of one or a half-dozen of the other. Since the gravesite will likely remain where it is, at least until the mystery of who she is can be solved, a decision on what to do about it can be deferred until after the more important planting is complete.” 

“Mary says that she must have done something awful not to be buried in the churchyard.” Even Lydia was fascinated by the mysterious lady. 

“And her poor little baby.” Kitty shivered, for she had a taste for Gothic novels. 

Emerson was intrigued in spite of himself. “What is her name, and what are the dates?” 

“Oh, the poor thing,” replied Kitty. “Her name was Martha Matthews, and she was born in 1755 and died at Christmas in 1772. Only seventeen years old, she was. And the poor little baby, her son, died the day he was born. He does not even have a name.” 

“Matthews.” Emerson’s voice became quiet, thoughtful. “Matthews,” he repeated almost to himself. 

“Do you recognize the name?” 

“It is familiar to me, Miss Catherine. I must think on it for a while.” 

Talk turned to other matters, but Elizabeth and Darcy remained quiet for the most part. Elizabeth ventured sidelong glances and veiled looks. She observed that Darcy’s look of disapproval—or what she had considered disapproval—had many dimensions and communicated many things, none of which were really disapproval. She reproached herself inwardly for deceiving herself for all those months. As with the day before, Darcy’s thoughts and motives were much simpler. He simply wished to win more of her smiles. He wondered when she would be well enough to walk outside again. 

“Miss Bennet,” he finally managed. “Have you any indication from the apothecary of when you will be able to venture into the garden?” He hastened to add, “Of course you would not wish to rush things.” 

“He said that when I could wear my half-boots again, I might go outside with some assistance. I believe that will be tomorrow, sir. I am wearing my own shoes today with no discomfort.” 

“You do not want to rush things, Lizzy,” said Mrs. Bennet. “The last thing we need is for you to fall again.” 

Elizabeth knew well how to get around her mother. “Of course, you are right, mama. But neither do I wish to lie about the house when I am capable of walking. It has been my experience that ladies who do that grow weak, and it takes them much longer to recover their strength.” 

“Well, you have always been a great walker. I suppose you can be trusted not to take off running.” 

Darcy found himself in the midst of a dilemma. Should he ask his question right here at the table in front of everyone, or should he wait to see if he could steal a few seconds alone with her? Mrs. Bennet solved the problem by rising, indicating that they would take their tea in the family parlor so that Elizabeth might make herself comfortable again. Darcy soon had her settled in his arms for the return journey to the parlor. 

“Miss Bennet,” I should be honored to assist you on your first walk tomorrow, he began. “At what time were you planning to go out?” 

“I had thought about half-past ten. You would be most welcome.” 

Darcy gave her a slow, pleased smile. “I shall look forward to it. I am certain Sirdar will as well. He—he has begun to miss you when he does not see you.” 

“I miss him, too. Such a kind, gentlemanly—and handsome horse he is.” 

“I will tell him so. He will be—he will be pleased to know you think so well of him.” Darcy settled her on her couch and brought her a cup of tea. Mrs. Bennet, whose opinion of Mr. Darcy had been changing slowly and imperceptibly, decided to leave them alone and began to direct the conversation of the others away from them. 

Before long, the carriage could be heard on the drive and the two gentlemen from Netherfield stood up to take their leave. As they began their short ride home, Mr. Emerson pronounced them “a pleasant and delightful family” and remarked that all of the Bennet ladies, Mrs. Bennet included, seemed to be “very agreeable company.” 

Darcy secretly thought that Mrs. Bennet might have improved after her terrible loss. He reproached himself for such an unkind thought, but despite her tantrum after Elizabeth’s accident, she did seem to show marked improvement in her manner and even in the tone of her voice. He wondered if having the productive, important tasks associated with Rose Cottage might have been the source of her improvement. 

Mr. Emerson interrupted his thoughts with a question concerning Netherfield, and they occupied themselves with discussions of the estate until the carriage drew up in front of the door. 

### 

Monday morning, Darcy was up betimes and down to breakfast before Jane and Charles would have been stirring. He was somewhat taken aback to find Mr. Emerson there before him, buried behind a newspaper. “Good morning, Mr. Darcy. I should have taken you for an early riser. A farmer’s work is never done, eh?” 

“Even when I am from home, I cannot develop a taste for sleeping in,” replied Darcy, filling his plate from the sideboard. “This morning my first waking thought—well, almost my first waking thought—was of the spring lambs. I have an excellent steward in Mr. Harold Sedgewick, and my chief shepherd is a master of his work. Still, I will write to Mr. Sedgewick today just to inquire how they are all faring.” 

“Yes, this is certainly the time. It has always interested me that while we celebrate the nativity of Our Lord in December, shepherds are most likely to be abiding in the fields in March when the lambs are born.” He shook his head. “Your Derbyshire sheep must produce a fine crop of good English wool.” 

“I would venture to say it is among the finest, sir.” 

Emerson smiled. “Yet I am not entirely convinced that sheep and shepherds and wool are not uppermost in your mind this morning.” 

Darcy had two choices. He hardly knew this man, yet he instinctively liked him. He could raise a cold eyebrow and put Emerson in his place, thereby losing a possible friend. Or he could relax and say something agreeably vague. He raised an eyebrow, smiled slightly, and said, 

“You are correct, sir. My mind was far more agreeably engaged. However, it is at the moment too soon to tell.” 

“Ah, then my lips are sealed. However, my father always said that faint heart never won fair maiden.” 

“It is interesting you should say that. I was just thinking of it yesterday.” 

With that, both men fell to their breakfasts and ate heartily. Over second cups of coffee, Emerson said, “I would like to take care of some correspondence this morning as well as lay out a few rough plans. Is there somewhere I might work?” 

Darcy led the way to the library, where a secluded corner housed a comfortable old desk. “Here is where I work while I am here. I am certain Bingley will find proper quarters for you soon, and until then you are welcome to share this spot with me. My papers are in the top drawer, and I would wager that the other drawers are empty.” 

“This will serve very well. Thank you for agreeing to share it with me.” Emerson held out his hand, and Darcy shook it. 

“I am unsure when I will be back. Please do me the favor of not saying anything about our conversation this morning.” 

“You have my word on it, sir. I wish you luck.” 

Darcy had Sirdar brought around and found himself arriving at Longbourn at precisely half-past ten. He asked the lad who came to take the horse to stand with him just near the front door, and within a few minutes he was in the front hallway, where he found Elizabeth putting on her cloak. Mrs. Bennet hovered nearby, but there was no sign of the other girls. 

“It is very kind of you to take Elizabeth for her walk, Mr. Darcy. I know you will not permit her to overexert herself. Lizzy, twenty minutes. A half-hour at the outside. I shall be in the parlor.” Mrs. Bennet had a reputation for being foolish, but when it came to her daughters, she could be very astute. She had just sent a clear signal that while she was willing to permit the couple a brief, solitary walk, she would be stationed in a room with windows overlooking the garden. 

“Yes, Mama.” Elizabeth drew on her gloves, smiled at Darcy, and took his offered arm. She seemed sure-footed and walked with only a slight limp. 

“I have brought a friend,” he said as they left by the front door. “He does not do well in houses, but I believe he will be happy to see you.” 

Indeed, Elizabeth could hear Sirdar’s welcoming nicker as they stepped on the porch. He nuzzled her gently, gratefully accepting her attentions to his neck and the spot between his ears, clearly requesting one more head-rub, and then accepting and enjoying the apple she proffered. Darcy was amused, and somewhat touched, to see that the entire communication between the woman and the horse had been carried out without words. They had formed a friendship based on genuine understanding. 

As he and Elizabeth began their slow, careful progress across the garden, she said, “Tell me, does Sirdar have a lady among his own kind?” 

“Well, in accordance with the customs of his tribe, he has several, eh, wives. I can tell you he is an excellent father, if a bit negligent by our standards. His eldest child, a filly, is now three years old, and she is a lovely creature. Her mother, a chestnut, is also a beautiful horse, and very sprightly. She would in my opinion be a perfect horse for a spirited lady. Georgiana has already claimed the filly for her own, and the mare graces our stables for visitors who might enjoy riding her.” They walked on in silence until Darcy said, “How is your ankle? You seem to be walking comfortably.” 

“I am doing very well, thank you. Very little discomfort, and it does not feel especially weak. I shall be glad to sit down for a few minutes when we reach the bench.” 

They walked on in a comfortable silence, and Darcy guided her to a bench a little to the side of the parlor windows. It was situated beneath a large tree, and when the tree had its summer leaves, the bench would be quite invisible. As it was, it was somewhat difficult to see from the parlor.” 

“Ah. You have discovered papa’s secret bench.” Elizabeth seated herself gratefully upon it, leaving room for Darcy beside her. “In summer, this bench is completely hidden from the house. It was papa’s favorite place to sit in the garden.” 

“I hope I have not brought you sorrow by choosing this spot.” 

“Indeed, you have not. It is a pleasant, happy memory. And you must agree, the bench is delightfully situated.” She smiled up at him, then grew serious. “Mr. Darcy, you must allow me to thank you for all that you have done, all that you are doing, for my family. You came upon us in our hour of deepest sorrow and need, and you have brought all your skill, all your kindness, and all your generosity to bear on our troubles. You have done this out of the goodness of your heart, and I am deeply grateful to you.” 

“Miss Bennet, much as I like and admire your mother and all your sisters, and much as I honor the memory of your father, I believe I thought only of you. I could not bear to see the woman—the only woman I will ever love, bowed down by the burdens that I knew would fall upon your shoulders.” 

Darcy’s gaze on her was now a completely open book, and as she returned that gaze, all she could see was love—love writ plain for her alone to see. She was silent as he continued. 

“Miss Bennet, you are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word on this subject will silence me forever.” 

Elizabeth smiled at him, then looked away in embarrassment. “My sister Jane has taken great care to acquaint me with just how wrong I was about you, how badly I misjudged you. Yet she did not have to take the trouble, for your actions have spoken louder than any words ever could. I am astonished that you would wish to have anything to do with me after my behavior, but my own feelings have turned around completely.” Here she stopped and blushed, covering her mouth with her gloved hand. "I am sorry I treated you so harshly.” 

“It was no more than what I deserved. My proposal was unbelievably boorish and self-centered.” 

Elizabeth smiled at him. “Mr. Darcy, we could spend the rest of our lives debating which one of us deserved the greater burden of the guilt, and I can predict we would never come to a conclusion. Each one of us would be demanding our own share of the recriminations. I suggest an alternative. Let us remember the past only as it gives us pleasure.” 

“Then you will consent to be my wife?” 

“I will be honored to be your wife.” 

“I must speak to your mother.”  
“Yes, you must. But must you do it right now?” Darcy had removed his hat, and as she looked over at him, she saw that same irresistible stray lock of hair she had seen the day before. This time she removed her gloves, and with her finger, touched and tucked the curl back among its fellows. “Soft,” she murmured, and Darcy closed his eyes. 

When he opened them again, it was with a look so tender, and so ardent, it quite took her breath away. He cupped his hand beneath her chin and brushed her lips gently with his own in a kiss that felt like butterflies—all the way to her toes. She did her best to return the kiss, and then said, “My very first kiss. I must memorize it.” 

“Your very first?” 

“Well, I have had kisses from papa and Uncle Gardiner and Uncle Phillips, but those hardly count. And from my little cousins, Edward and Thomas, but they are babies. Besides which, Edward now salutes me with a very gentlemanly bow. He has put away childish things. I received a kiss on the forehead from Charles the day he and Jane were married, but he kissed each of his new sisters.” She smiled a bit impishly. “Aside from that, yes. Yours is my very first kiss, and I will remember it always.” 

“I could stay here and kiss you all day.” Darcy’s voice was gentle, and he took her bare hand in his own. “But I really do need to go and speak with your mother. How is she likely to receive such a visit?” 

“My mother? She will be delighted. You must forgive her if she begins to prate of carriages and pin-money. But Mr. Darcy, I fear we must look forward to a long engagement. I will not be able to marry until at least four months have passed.” 

“First of all, would you call me by my Christian name? I have longed to hear you say it, and no one uses it since my mother died. And second, I would wait a lifetime for you. Four months will go by in no time, and I plan to spend most of it here at Netherfield helping to see your family well settled and comfortable. We can do that side by side.” 

“Very well, Fitzwilliam. And since my heart is now in your keeping, you had best call me Elizabeth. Let us go and see what mama has to say, but would you—could you—oh, I want one more kiss.” 

Darcy was happy to oblige, and the two stood and made their way half-eagerly, half-reluctantly toward the house. Mrs. Bennet saw them from the parlor window, nodded in satisfaction, and sent her other daughters scattering to their rooms upstairs. When Elizabeth and Darcy entered, she was seated comfortably at the work-table over her embroidery. “Well, Mr. Darcy. You have brought our Lizzy back three minutes early. Punctuality is a virtue I particularly admire.” 

Darcy settled Elizabeth on her sofa and covered her with the shawl. “Thank you, Mrs. Bennet. I wonder if I might have a word with you in private.” 

“In private, you say? Why, certainly, Mr. Darcy. Lizzy, I shall have tea sent here. Mr. Darcy, we can be assured of privacy in my husband’s study.” Darcy followed Elizabeth’s mother out of the room, throwing a look over his shoulder at Elizabeth that she found comical. She, in turn, gave a tiny wave. 

They returned less than fifteen minutes later; indeed, Hill had just left after bringing in the tea. Mrs. Bennet was beaming, Darcy’s face encompassed a mixture of delight and relief. 

“Well, Miss Lizzy, it appears you are to be married,” said her mother, leaning over to kiss her daughter. “I must say, you are so headstrong I despaired of ever seeing you settled, but our dear Mr. Darcy is anxious to take on the task.” She settled in her chair and began to pour out the tea. Darcy brought a cup to Elizabeth and settled into the chair beside her couch. Mrs. Bennet went on. “I have given Mr. Darcy my blessing. You are soon to be one-and-twenty, and I do not believe you require anyone’s permission, but I can never keep all of that straight. I have asked Mr. Darcy to call upon your Uncle Gardiner to discuss all of those dreary details regarding dowries and settlements and whatever else may be needed. Lord knows, we are now as poor as church mice, but your young man appears to wish to overlook all of that. You are a very fortunate girl, Lizzy Bennet. Very fortunate indeed.” 

“Thank you, mama. I know that.” Elizabeth smiled up at Darcy, and he smiled back in relief. 

“I must go and tell your sisters now, and then your aunt Phillips. And then there will be Lady Lucas, and Mrs. Goulding, and—I may go distracted before all of this is settled.” 

“We shall not marry until after the six months of deep mourning, mama. And not until you and the girls are well settled at Rose Cottage.” 

“There is plenty of time to discuss that. Mr. Darcy, will you join us in a family dinner this evening?” 

“I shall be delighted.” 

“I am going up to your sisters now. Please leave the door to the parlor open, my children.” And with that, Mrs. Bennet was gone. 

Darcy exhaled a humorous breath. “I am very glad I shall never have to do that again. Your mother says she will write to Mr. Gardiner and tell him precisely what she wants to do. It is a blessing I have built up a solid working relationship with him.” 

“I think you will find my uncle easy to work with. And mama is right. I shall be one-and-twenty before our mourning is ended, and I shall no longer need anyone’s permission.” 

Darcy knelt on the floor beside her couch and leaned over to kiss her again. This time the kiss was deeper, more ardent, more passionate. He was elated to feel Elizabeth’s response, to hear the soft sound she made as she threw her arms around his neck. He knew the kiss must end, and it did—all too soon. But not before he had whispered, into the space between their lips, “I love you, Elizabeth” and heard her soft pledge in return. 

He sat back on his heels, looked at his bride to be, and said, “Soon we will not have any more partings. But I must go back to Netherfield to help Bingley as I promised. The sooner we have him on an even keel, the sooner we can be together, my darling.” 

Elizabeth twined her fingers in his. “I know. I keep imagining that by the time we marry, we can spend at least a little time relaxing in each other’s company. Until then, it appears our work is cut out for us.” She smoothed his hair—an activity she was beginning to enjoy—and gave his cheek a pat. “Hurry back for dinner, Fitzwilliam.” 

“I shall be back in no time at all.” He stood, placed a kiss in the palm of her hand, and closed her fingers round it gently. Then, with a single backward glance, he was gone.


End file.
